A World of Bloody Evolution
by RedrumSprinkles
Summary: Lost in the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, a Golden Sun must rise. Thank you Monty, for giving us such a playground. We miss you already.
1. In the Cold Light of Day

**A/N: Here it is people! Chapter 1 of my next major fanfiction! Now let me level with you - I really like this story. I have some pretty awesome stuff planned, but if the story goes unseen, I probably won't be able to get to it, which makes me sad. So share the love! :D**

**By the way, this story serves as a decent introduction to Warhammer 40k for RWBY fans (but is _not_ its primary purpose). So if you're exclusively a RWBY fan, don't worry, you'll be able to enjoy the story too!**

**As to where this takes place in the WH40k timeline, you'll find out. But believe me. Shit. Goes. _Down_. There might be a few lore discrepancies regarding 40k lore, and if you see them, let me know ASAP. I'll do my best to rectify them.**

**This will update somewhat weekly, but don't expect regular updates. The story is divided into several arcs (books), each of which will have their own title (but are contained within this story). ****  
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**Disclaimer: Like 'The Ones You Love Mean More Than Anything', I will do this exactly once. I don't own either universe. I just think that they'd be awesome together - which is why we're sitting here today.**

**Please, PLEASE let me know what you think. Reviews make my day.  
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><p><strong>Book One: Baptism by Fire<strong>

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><p><strong>-Chapter 1: In the Cold Light of Day-<strong>

_"In those days, legions uncountable shall march under the banner of a Fallen Star. Hear their boots, my brothers and sisters! Hear them thunder across the Galaxy!" – Farseer Sylvis_

A chorus of birds sung their morning cry, awakening Yang from a deep slumber. The soil beneath her was soft and fresh, the scent of rain clinging to its moss and lichens with a rich, earthy aroma. She rubbed her eyes, not remembering how she arrived in such an alien forest.

The trees were unlike any she had seen before, twisted and gnarled beyond imagination. Some were so large they could have served as apartment buildings. She sat up to survey her surroundings. A half-remembered dream clung to the edges of her consciousness, flashes of a pale face and a red cloak. Rubbing her eyes, she gave a big yawn, stretching her arms wide.

No hangover, which was odd. It wasn't often Yang found herself in an unfamiliar location with no memory without the influence of alcohol. She was sure she had been drinking last night as well. She sighed, running her fingers through her waist-length golden hair, clearing it of the dirt and twigs that infested it.

Drink was a constant companion for her, ever since Ruby sacrificed herself those scant few years ago. She'd said her goodbye, watched her go, holding her hand when she passed. It hurt so much. Her sister, the one person she loved most in the world, sworn to protect and cherish, gone. Only in the imbibing of iridescent solutions would solace visit her, pity her.

Yes, Yang Xiao Long knew grief.

She tried not to let it rule her, but that was a hopeless pursuit. In time, maybe it'd be better, but two years wasn't enough. For now, finding out where she was would have to occupy her thoughts.

Ember Celica still graced her arms, the familiar shotgun-gauntlets shining bright in the pre-dawn glow. Good. If she was out in an unknown forest, grimm might be near. There weren't nearly as many as there used to be, but caution is always prudent.

Not that Yang couldn't just use her fists to brutalize anything that crossed her path. The gauntlets merely helped.

"I suppose I should get a better view." She muttered. With a few blasts from Ember Celica, she was straddling the branch of the tallest tree, surveying her surroundings. Behind her, the forest stretched up soaring mountains, sheer and grey. Clouds hung low to the earth, white haze that whispered over the viridian woods.

To her left was a city, surrounded by smaller communities. The buildings looked strange to her. They were taller than most of the structures in Vale, and much darker. Reaching to the sky, they glimmered obsidian, spires of incredible magnitude.

Around the city lay miles and miles of farmland. Golden wheat stretched all the way to the horizon, rustling in the chill morning breeze.

If there was any hope of finding a way back to her home – and a drink – the city was where it lay. It didn't take her long to leave the forest. Travel is always a cinch for someone who can conduct aura through their weapons.

The land beyond the forest was hilly, but manageable. Long leaves of wheat caressed her passing. She ran her fingers through it, combing the strands with gloved fingers. With a deep breath of chill morning air, she felt… refreshed. It had been awhile since she felt so relaxed and free. Maybe getting out of Vale helped with that.

Farmland stretched before her, surrounding the villages that sat at the city's feet. She crested a hill, relishing the warm morning sun at her back. A small gathering of farmers sat at the base of the hill, implements resting on shoulders. Today's work was about to begin.

"Uh… greetings!" She called down to them. They jerked up in response, squinting against the yellow glare. They were a dark-skinned lot, stocky and strong with roan-colored hair. Huge farming machines flanked them, bulky and baroque in appearance.

"Hello!" A little girl replied, waving her arm back and forth. Descending, Yang approached the small crowd. They were dressed simply, in rags of linen and wool. Wide-brimmed hats sat on their heads, carefully woven from straw. The only object of worth they appeared to posses were necklaces in the shape of double-headed eagles, wrought in a dark, polluted gold. They regarded her with suspicion, eyes carefully checking her over for signs of hostility. In a disarming gesture, she raised her hands, fingers spread wide.

"Sorry for bothering you guys, but I'm awfully lost. Can you guys point me to the nearest transit station?" The little girl stepped forward before her mother pulled her back. An older man turned to face her.

"And who might you be?"

"The name's Yang. I'm a Huntress!" A few nods, and relieved smiles.

"Ah!" The man said, beaming. "We don't get many of your type this close to Aesbrouth." That was odd. One, she'd never heard of a city called Aesbrouth, and two, Hunters and Huntresses were fairly common sights among the Four Kingdoms. "Any game?" He inquired. Eager to continue exploring, and careful not to throw away their easily earned trust, she nodded.

"There's a few packs of…beasts… in the woods back there that I've been tracking. Probably what led me all the way here!" She said with a small, awkward laugh. They nodded.

"I can't tell you how many acres we've lost to those _Jortni_! Well, there's an Administratum station in the village. I'm sure you can get your bearings there." He took the little girl by the shoulder. "Little Hilde here will show you the way. She's not old enough for harvest work anyway." Hilde pouted, putting her hands on her hips and huffing loudly. Yang let out a small giggle. This girl reminded her of herself when she was little. Small in stature, but with a generous helping of spunk. Nevertheless, she looked happy to escort Yang around the village.

"You have really pretty hair, Ms. Y...Y…Yang!" She said, turning to reveal a beaming smile.

"Thank you sweetheart." She said, stooping to ruffle her hair. The adults chuckled.

"Be back soon, ok? We'll need your help with the animals later." Hilde nodded vigorously, taking Yang's hand and pulling her along.

The village was stunning to behold up close. It was designed to maximize horizontal space. The simple apartment buildings and houses stacked upon each other, rising several stories into the air. Countless bridges and walkways lay over the street, just tall enough for enormous tractors to pass under. Around them, the village was stirring to life. Doors creaked open, spilling forth yawning farmers. Tools and equipment galore lined the dirt streets, a hub of activity.

"Your family must keep pretty busy!" Yang said.

"Oh yes!" Hilde said, nodding. Her nutmeg-brown braids bounced against her shoulders. "Our crops keep the Imperium healthy and strong." Lost in observation, Yang only nodded.

"That's nice." Fluttering posters lined the street, each stamped with a black 'I'. Small skulls bordered the paper, centered around a pair of soldiers, one male, one female. Clad in solid green armor and posed heroically against a cliff, it was obviously a recruitment poster.

'To the faithful servants of the Imperium!' It read. 'Avoid Conscription! Volunteer for the yearly Tithe!' Additional information was attached to the bottom of the poster in tiny, easy-to-tear-tickets. Only a few were missing. Yang tore one loose from its brethren, giving it a closer look. There was no Empire in Remnant. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

She read it closely, hand still clutched by Hilde. 'In six month's time, the annual Imperial Tithe is due! Join now for a chance to serve the Emperor with faith and zeal! Surrender this stub to your local Departmento Munitorum warehouse to participate in this chance for impossible glory in his name!' Sticking it into a pocket in her vest, she decided to think about it later.

Hilde was too cute to ignore for long anyway.

"There's my house!" She chirped, gesturing emphatically. It was a squat building, with rusted door hinges and chipping paint. It reminded Yang of Dad's cottage in Patch. Worn, but lived-in and comfortable. "Say Ms. Yang, what's it like being a Huntress?"

"Well…" Images of Ruby flashed before her, before she swallowed them with a fake smile. "It's awesome! I get to make a difference and help out lots of people."

"That's so cool… I wish I wasn't a farmer…"

"Hey, being a farmer's not so bad!" Yang said. "You got… wheat… and… cute little animals!" Hilde giggled.

"You're funny, Ms. Yang. Yang. That's a funny name. I've never heard it before!"

"Thank… you?" Hilde smiled.

"There's the Admina… Admnia… Adminiastratum! I hope you find what you're looking for!" She said, pointing to a tall building utterly unlike its neighbors. It was tall, with gothic flairs to its black metal siding. 'Adinimistratum' was emblazoned on its side in large, blocky letters. _Must be some kind of Police station_, Yang thought

"Me too. Thanks Hilde. You run along now, tell your family I said thanks!" The girl looked sad to be parted from Yang so soon, but smiled anyway.

"I will!" She dashed away.

Ducking inside the building, Yang looked around. Huge rolls of paper sat in cubbyholes, capped with black metal seals. A Policewoman in greenish gray uniform sat at a towering metallic desk. Hoping she would find some answers, she approached her. When she neared the desk, she noticed the policewoman was accompanied by a being that was more machine than man.

It whirred and clicked, furiously scribing on a thick sheet of parchment. No face was visible behind its black mask and red hood. Extraneous limbs hissed and scratched at the paper, aiding this… thing… in its unknowable task.

Yang recoiled in horror. She had never seen something so... mutilated before. The woman flanking the metal monstrosity sighed. Taking a large sip of bitter black coffee from a steaming plastic mug, she waved Yang over. Dark bags hung from her sunken eyes. Taut, unpainted lips pulled tight in an unsightly frown. A few strands of salt and pepper hair fell out from her cap.

"What's the matter, never see a servitor before?" Her voice was hoarse and gruff, as if someone had taken sandpaper to her larynx.

"I… uh… no, ma'am." The woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Gonna be one of those days." She muttered. "What can I help you with, citizen?"

"Look, Ms…. Vadiik," Yang started, trying to decipher the small print on her name tag, "I'm extremely lost."

"No kiddin'."

"No, I'm not. I woke up in the woods over there," She jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the forest, "and I have no idea how I got here." The woman blinked at her. The servitor continued to scribble away, making Yang shudder. "Can I just have a map or something?"

"Yeah. Gimmie a sec. First, let's just get this on record." She snapped her fingers at the servitor, causing its writings to cease for a moment. "Ay-o, Ralphie, start a new incident form." Without looking, the flesh-metal construct removed a piece of a paper from a stack, one of its many appendages poised with a pen, ready to write. "Can I get your full name, Miss?"

Yang just wanted a map.

"Yeah, name's Yang Xiao Long." The servitor whirred and spluttered, meaningless robotic syllables pouring out of its unseen mouth.

"Easy there Ralphie, belay that."

"BELAYING." It said in an artificial voice.

"Can you spell that, Ms… Long?"

"Why-Ay-En-Gee," She waited for the woman to nod before she continued. "Ex-Ai-Ay-Oh, El-Oh-En-Gee."

"Transcribe as phonetically described." She muttered. The servitor obeyed. "That's an unusual name, Ms. Long. One I ain't seen likes of on Woadia."

"Woadia?" The woman stared at Yang, completely bewildered.

"Now I deal with a lot of backbirths out here in this shit-hole post, but I don't I've ever encountered someone so incredibly stupid they don't know what _planet_ they live on." Whoa, whoa, what did she say? _Planet_? Uh-oh. Danger. Either she was having one hell of a dream, or something was terribly, _terribly_ wrong.

"Uh… Ms. Long? Do you have any I.D on you?" Oh right. She pulled out her wallet, which had her I.D., a piece of plastic with a picture of her grinning broadly, flashing 'peace' to the camera. A few lien notes stuck out of the leather slats, edges worn and fuzzy. Pictures of team RWBY were there too, battered and worn but warm and familiar. And heart-rending.

"Here you go ma'am." She slid the I.D. card out and gave it to her. Officer Vadiik looked it over for a few seconds before sighing and lighting up a cigarette.

"I see now. This is a joke. You came to this station to waste my time with some bullshit story and a made-up I.D. And I thought you were dumb enough to not know what planet you were on!" She shook her head. Flicking the I.D. back to Yang, she shooed her away. "Now leave, before I arrest you for wasting my time."

"Now hold on-" Yang said, before she was stopped by a red burst of blossoming pain in her head. "Ah. Ouch." She opened her mouth, realizing her teeth had begun to grind together. "What was that?" A police officer of some kind burst through the door, panting.

"Chaos. Just came out of the Warp." He wheezed, his face ashen from fear and exertion. "They got a dozen ships coming down. No idea how many more might be coming."

The cigarette Vadiik had been holding fell into her coffee, extinguishing its faint light and sizzling gently. Her mouth fell open

"Uh…what?" Yang asked.

"Golden Throne of Terra." The older woman whispered, ignoring Yang. The woman looked at her, face grim and twisted in fear. "The Forces of Chaos have arrived." At once, the place was a hive of activity. Civilians were rushed out of the building, and officers scrambled for weapons. Shouts of panic and confusion reigned.

"Um… what's going on.?" Yang asked.

"Look Ms. Long, I've served in the Imperial Guard for forty-five years. I've _seen_ Chaos. And they're going to do their best to kill, rape, and torture every single person on this planet. I pray to the Emperor they didn't come in numbers." A green-uniformed officer approached Vadiik carrying a giant box on his back. An antenna stretched out from it. He handed her a receiver of some kind.

"We got Colonel Brandt on vox for you, Ma'am!" She snatched the receiver from his hands.

"This is Vadiik. Yeah. Ok. Understood." There was a pause. "We'll do our best. The Emperor Protects." She nodded at the man, who looked at her questioningly.

"Get your wargear and soldier up. No PDF back up here. Not for awhile at least." Vadiik turned to Yang, who was still very confused as to what was going on.

"Ms. Long, my suggestion is you either pick up a lasgun, or find a deep fucking hole to hide in. Because we've got a few raiding parties heading our way."

If what the woman was saying was true (and the panicked, frantic preparations for a defense were any indication), the people here were in grave danger. She beamed at the officer, unleashing Ember Celica. The gauntlets clicked and clacked, hunter-grade shells primed and ready to go.

"Put me on the front lines, Lady. I've been _dying_ to kick some ass." Vadiik stared dumbly at her.

"You're the strangest person I've ever encountered, Miss Long. Not many civilians would so willingly lay down their lives to fight Chaos. And I don't know how some fancy expanding bracelets are gonna help."

"Ma'am, I've been training to fight for a long time. I just hope these Chaos people make it fun. So where do you need me?" Yang asked. Officer Vadiik didn't answer at first. She was busy ramming some kind of ammunition into a blocky rifle. Motioning Yang to follow her, she left the building.

"Shoot whatever we shoot at and _don't_ get in our way. For now, you're with us." She tossed a pistol to Yang. "This is the best I can do." Thirty or so officers had gathered in the street, waiting for Vadiik.

"Ok, listen up people, we have Chaos inbound. Since I am the ranking officer here, I will be taking command. Affirmative?"

"Aye!" They cried.

"This is a dark day for Woadia, that Chaos raids should reach us here. But their attack is one born of Warp-driven lunacy!" She cried. "For when they meet us in battle, they will only find the steel hearts of the men and women of Woadia! With our fists raised in righteous anger, and the Emperor watching over us, we shall break them! Kill them all, and leave none alive! For The Emperor Protects, and today, WE ARE HIS INSTRUMENT!"

"The Emperor Protects!" They echoed.

"Good! Now you six, go set up barricades. You four, go round up the civilians, get them inside! The rest, lock and load! Our orders are to defend the village, and wait for the PDF!"

"Aye!" They cried. Vadiik sighed as they went about their tasks. The miasma of fear that had permeated the station had dissipated, a steely courage replacing it.

"Talk about a change in attitude." Yang said, grinning. The cold look Vadiik gave her chilled her to the bone.

"I don't have the luxury of being afraid. If I falter, every single person in this village will be killed. And even if I don't, they might die anyway. So for your first instruction, I need a pair of eyes out there. Go scout, and come back if you see anything. Dismissed, Ms. Long."

_The police here are awfully militaristic_, Yang thought to herself. _Wherever 'here' is_. She nodded, and dashed out the bulky double-doors of the Police Station.

When she looked to the sky, she saw spiky black fliers jet underneath the morning clouds, painted a deep, bloody red and covered in strange symbols. Rage and bloodlust surged from them like waves crashing upon the shore. They were enormous, bigger than any fliers Yang had ever seen before.

Obeying Vadiik's orders to scout, she pushed fleeing civilians towards the village center, fighting her way through the tumult to get a better view of the ships. Landing crafts by the hundreds jettisoned from them, scattering over the planet's surface. Most of them headed towards the city.

She scrambled to the top of a nearby hill. In the fields before her, a few dozen vessels settled to the earth, prop-wash pushing stalks of wheat aside with an unrelenting wind. From them, at least a hundred warriors clambered out.

And she thought the Ralphie the Servitor had been horrific. Whoever these 'Chaos' people were, they were bad news. Scars and tattoos were more common than plain skin. Some of them had eight-pointed brands burned into their chests, while thorny black metal dug into their skin, cutting into their pale flesh. What little armor they wore was painted a dark red, in what looked like blood. Some of them even had leather tunics, crafted from what Yang feared to be human skin. Their weapons were worse. Rusty and choked with rotting flesh, they were brutal, nasty things. Now she understood why Vadiik's initial reaction was one of object terror.

She choked back the bile that rose in her throat. _I'm going to help these people_. She thought. _And I'm going to kick some ass doing it. _Every single one of these monsters looked particularly punch-able. Then, their leader stepped out. Clad in hulking, oversized armor, he stood far above his underlings. Skulls sat on top of long pikes that jutted out from his pack, a weapon the size of Yang carried casually in his right hand.

Time to go.

She sprinted back to the village, desperate to inform Vadiik of the invaders' location. Barricades had been hastily erected, manned by trembling police officers clutching desperately to their weapons. Gesturing and pointing wildly, Vadiik stood behind them.

"They're right over the hill!" Yang cried, dashing to them.

"You're alive."

"Well yeah." Yang stopped. "Wait…you didn't think I'd make it back?" She asked indignantly. No response. "Well a dozen of those fliers landed, and there's about a hundred of those Chaos guys, looking like they stepped out of a seriously hardcore metal band." Vadiik frowned. "And there was one guy, built like a tank. Had these over-sized shoulder pauldrons, and this big blocky gun…"

"Oh no." One of the officers whimpered. "Oh, Emperor save us. A traitor marine. Golden _Throne,_ I thought they were just _legends_."

"They're real, alright." Vadiik growled. "But they die like anything else. Have courage!" She turned to Yang. "Ms. Long, get behind cover. Try and help where you can, but _stay out of our way_."

"Don't worry, Ma'am. I'll send them packing!" She cocked Ember Celica, ready to fight. It didn't matter that she was lost in a strange land. There were people in danger, and her duty as a Huntress demanded that she protect them. The fact that she got to knock some skulls to do so just made it better. "Bring 'em on!"

They obliged her, pouring over the hill. Frothing at the mouth and swinging horrid weapons, they charged the village.

"OPEN FIRE!" Vadiik cried. Her men obeyed, sending red lances of light soaring downrange. The air was rank with a noxious cloud of vapor that spewed from their strange guns. The invaders toppled and fell, gaping black holes opening in their chests. They died screaming, clawing at the wounds with sharpened nails. _They cut through their aura like it wasn't even there..._ Yang mused. She drew the pistol she'd been given.

Aiming it, she took potshots at the incoming Chaos troops. Hammering the trigger, small laser bursts erupted from the gun. Even when she missed the center of mass, the lasers were enough to dismember the attackers. _These things are awesome_.

The invaders charged on, returning fire with crude, twisted weapons. Bullets rattled off the hastily-erected cover, burying themselves deep. Some found their target, ripping the lightly-armored policemen to shreds. Blood splashed over Yang, the screams of the wounded and dying battering her ears.

"THERE'S TOO MANY!" Someone shouted.

"KEEP FIRING!" Vadiik shouted back. Yang snatched up a fallen rifle, desperate to stem the tide. Each time she pressed the trigger, another attacker fell victim to the crimson lance of light, howling in agony. It wasn't enough.

"FIX BAYONETS!" Vadiik shouted over the roar of combat. In her hand was a lethal-looking weapon, some sort of sword that had been converted into a chainsaw. It gurgled and spat, humming with murderous intent.

The crowd of invaders was only a few yards away now, demented war cries on their lips. They brandished wicked swords and firearms, all of them covered in grim trophies.

_Time to shine_. Yang thought, grinning. She tossed the rifle over her shoulder.

Bursting forward, her fist met the first attacker, shattering his face and sending him flying backwards. There was no resistance, no push of unseen force that indicated the presence of aura. Then, Yang realized: _They're not using aura! That's why the rifles were so effective!_ Her grin widened. _This will be _too _easy_.

Another man approached her, sword raised. Ember Celica met him in his stomach, tearing him apart. The recoil sent her elbow into the chest of another, tumbling him back. She punched another one, firing a shell as her fist met his chin. His head vaporized in a flash of gore, brains decorating his comrades.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!" One cried, charging her. She gave him a low whistle. His lips were pulled back with a mechanical vice, blood pouring over his rotten green teeth. Piercings covered every inch of his face.

"You're a real piece of work, aren't you?" She ducked under his strike, blasting him in the back with her gauntlets. He spun into his friend, missing most of his torso. Yang killed him too, bringing Ember Celica around into his heart, shattering his ribcage.

They surrounded her now, slavering with bloodlust. One fell to her blows, then another. Grabbing an invader by his arm, she threw him into his comrades, bowling them over. She smashed their heads in.

"Golden Throne of Terra, they've got us flanked!" An officer cried. Yang saw the second approaching wave, hurtling over the hills and spilling into the village. A sword twisted around, aimed to slash her stomach open. Her aura shrugged it off, turning her around but keeping the blade from cutting her exposed flesh. The attacker paused, eyes wide.

"Sucks to be you." Yang said, Ember Celica claiming another life. She needed to reload. Throwing her arms forward, the empty shells sprang out of her gauntlets, falling to the blood-soaked earth where they pattered against corpses and hard-packed dirt. A few rounds hit her in the chest, pushing her back.

She reloaded, slamming a brace of shells into her gauntlets. Launching herself at the flanking Chaos forces, she landed amongst them, the golden flames of her aura licking at her hair.

"C'MON, WHO'S NEXT?" She cried. A dozen men answered her challenge, growling and snarling. Her arms spun into a whirlwind of death, Ember Celica roaring with glee as it tore into Yang's enemies. Too fast to follow, her punches sent corpses flying, tumbling over the ground in meaty, bloody heaps. Sending her foot into a man's chest, she pushed his sternum into his heart, crushing it from without.

_ Blamblamblamblamblamblamblamblamblam_

Shells tore into her opponents, pellets rending skin and sinew into a pulp. Vaulting over an attacker, she slammed his head into the ground, before picking him up and laying him out with a wheelhouse kick. The rest of the men backed off, fear glowing in their seething eyes.

Using Ember Celica to propel her, she flew backwards, skidding to a halt besides her new-found comrades. They were hard-pressed; Chaos forces were swarming them and starting to push them back. Unimpeded, some started to sprint past the clash, howling as they dove into the village.

Vadiik was panting hard, covered in blood. Her pistol hummed, shooting brilliant red beams into the faces of her foes, which melted and ran down their chests. Giving a wordless cry, she surged forward, the sword in her right hand roaring to life. Its teeth screamed as they bit into the flesh of an attacker. Gore spilled out from his shoulder before he split in half from the blow.

Brutal. Uncompromisingly brutal. This is how they waged war in this land, Yang thought. No auras, no semblances, no concussive rounds, no blunt weapons. It was steel and fire against bare skin. But as she breathed, and the cool morning air rushed to fill her depleted lungs, she felt _alive_. She'd been in life-or-death fights before, but this… she'd never fought like this… _ever_.

A man hefted his ax, ready to bring it down on the face of an officer. Yang was quicker. Launching herself forward with Ember Celica, she crushed the man's chest, sending him spiraling backwards before his blow could land.

"To me!" Vadiik cried. An officer turned to heed her cry, but a blast caught the back of his neck, blowing a chunk of muscle and tissue onto the earth. He choked and gurgled as he died, hands desperately trying to stem the flow of blood from his neck.

Yang flattened as two men with assault rifles lit into her, pouring lead from their ratty guns. She dove forward, under their firing arcs. She punched one in the knee, a resounding _CRACK_ her answer. She took the rifle and bludgeoned the other one with it.

"_LONG_!" Vadiik cried, desperately fending off an assault from a towering man who had draped himself in human leather.

"KILL, _KILL_, **_KILL_**!" He bellowed, reaching out to crush her beneath his enormous fists. Yang dashed over to her. Running up the man's back, she drove a fist into his skull, slamming his body down with a burst from Ember Celica.

She offered a hand to the officer, hauling the bruised and battered veteran to her feet. Vadiik took it readily, narrowly avoiding a blow from another enemy. She put two lasers into his kneecaps. He toppled over, screaming in pain.

"Thanks." She said, priming her weapon.

"Any time." Yang replied, stomping her boot into the screaming man's face.

"You're a blessed fighter, Ms. Long. I've never seen such speed."

"My sister's even faster." Yang said, heart swelling with pride. Grabbing a man's tunic, she hurled him into the air and drove him into the ground with her elbow, breaking his spine and pulverizing him. _And that's for taking her away._ She added absentmindedly.

A crack, and Vadiik fell. An attacker had brought a polearm of sorts into her back, knocking her out cold. Yang snarled, punching the offender in the chest and sending him sprawling a few dozen yards away.

"ENOUGH." A voice rang out, deep and raspy. The attackers backed away from the officers, hissing and spitting. Yang whirled around, weapons raised.

The huge man stepped forward, armor slick with blood and grime. He was massive. Taller than even Yatsuhashi, and twice as thick around. His armor was a deep red, trimmed in a dull bronze, his face hidden behind a horned helm.

"SHE IS _MINE_." Each step he took shook the earth beneath his boots, kicking up mud and gore as he strode forward. "KHORNE, BEAR WITNESS TO MY BATTLE." Blood ran down his armor, soaking the joints and running down the thick plates. Too late, Yang saw the source.

On top of his hideous pikes was Hilde's head, her mouth jammed onto the spike with brutal force.

Yang's mind went blank from shock. Reeling, it boiled red, frothing with rage.

"You… _MONSTER_!" Her semblance activated as she smashed her fists together. Burning a glowing crimson, her eyes ignited. Flames spilled off her hair, golden and white-hot. She slammed into the towering man, fists hammering him in lightening succession. He stumbled back from the force of the attack, but was otherwise unharmed.

His helmet tumbled off. He spat, his armor only dented by the barrage of blows.

"ROTTEN, _STINKING_ PSYKERS." He growled. Yang had no idea what he called her, and she didn't care. A fist came down on his jaw, breaking it. He bellowed in pain and battered her with a brutal punch. She flew back, skidding and rolling before sliding to a halt. She tasted blood.

Good.

Enraged and empowered by his attack, she closed the distance again, rushing to meet him with a furious battle cry. The last shell in Ember Celica fired into his exposed face, ripping the flesh away in a blast of pellets. The giant warrior stumbled and fell, caught unawares by the ferocity of the attack. Still, he struggled, obscene war cries spilling from his ruined lips. Arms the size of tree trunks squeezed her, threatening to snap her spine in two. Channeling the entirety of her aura into her fists, Yang brought them down on his skull, one after another, again and again. The aura-enhanced strikes smashed his head in, and his struggling slackened. But her attacks did not. Blood caked the front of her clothes, and the monster's armor whirred and hissed as his body's final attempts to push her off withered away. She stopped her assault, panting.

A deathly silence greeted her, fear dominating the faces of the Chaos warriors.

Yang screamed, flush with an animalistic sense of victory. A thunderous explosion disrupted her moment of triumph, pushing her off her feet. Giant rectangular tanks stormed past, guns blazing death at the invaders. Broken by the sudden assault, they scattered and fled, to no avail. As the adrenaline faded, her hair returned to normal, settling about her shoulders in a silken yellow coat. She screamed again. Tears ran down her cheeks, salt rivers streaming down her bloodied, anguished face.

Yes, Yang Xiao Long knew grief.

For she was lost, trapped in a world of atrocities the likes of which she'd never known.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wait, what happened to Ruby? How did Yang get here? And how did she beat a Chaos Space Marine?! **

**I can only answer the last one: _she got lucky_. Since she still has her aura, she's a bit OP, but she's not unstoppable. ****As for why I chose Yang, it's simple. She's the least suited to be here. She can speak Low Gothic because, again, language barriers just drag the story down. And an interesting thing happened while I was writing this story... Yang grew to become my favorite character. She's just... so cool. **

****This is the longest chapter I'll have for a while. Most run about 3.5k words, some longer, some shorter. Hope that isn't an issue.****

**Anyway, I _really_ hope you liked it! Let me know what you think! ...Please!**


	2. The Siren Stars

**A/N: Thanks so much for the awesome response! You guys are the best! Anyway, these next few chapters are mostly set-up. I hope you like them, as they're utterly necessary, and basically set up the plot for the entire fic.**

**Oh, and I'm moving review replies to the bottom notes, so you guys can get your sweet, sweet, RWBYhammer 40k cocaine even sooner.**

* * *

><p><strong>Book 1: Baptism by Fire<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>-Chapter 2: The Siren Stars-<strong>

_"Burn the heretic! Kill the mutant! Purge the unclean!" – Imperial War Cry_

_"MAIM, KILL, BURN! **MAIM, KILL, BURN**!" - Khornate War Cry_

Yang accepted a warm woolen cloak from a recovered Vadiik. Her clothes were soaked with blood, too red and wet to be of any real use. She pulled the garment tight around her. Brushing her sweat-laden locks away from her face, she turned her head to the sky. It was a beautiful day, one that completely ignored the carnage it had seen that morning. After ten hours of furious fighting, the P.D.F. managed to repel the Chaos raid, pushing the maniacs back into their ships and off Woadia.

"How…" She sniffed, "how could they _do_ this." Vadiik did not respond immediately, instead drawing another cigarette from within her greatcoat.

"They are Chaos, Ms. Long." Dried blood caked her coat and arms.

"But… it's…" Yang hunched over, hands and knees meeting the cold, hard earth. She would have vomited, if she had anything left in her stomach. The image of that little girl's head sitting on that monster's trophy rack... "Oh, _Dust_." She coughed. "It's so horrible." She still expected to wake up at any moment. To find herself huddled into a ball, away from this horrible, repugnant place.

"This is what the forces of Chaos do. They reave and rape and kill at the biddings of their Dark Masters." A small, dark laugh. "This is the least I have seen them do."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Yang demanded, tears brimming at the corner of her violet eyes.

"Ms. Long, I've served in the Imperial Guard for forty-five years. I've fought every manner of xenos, every color of Chaos. I've killed Orks, Eldar, and cultists by the score. Even fought Necrons. Not many Guardsmen can claim that." Yang just sighed. She had no idea what the older woman was talking about.

"So you're… used to this? All this pain?" Vadiik sighed, inhaling deeply. Her cigarette turned to ash, crumbling away in the gentle breeze. She stamped it out, grinding it into a broken corpse.

"Rage is one hell of an anesthetic." She muttered.

Yang tried to process all of this. She wasn't in Vale anymore, or even Remnant for that matter. She had been spirited away to another world entirely, thrust into a conflict more brutal and bloody than any she had faced before. _Why? How?_ _What was I doing that landed me here?_ Vadiik interrupted her thoughts.

"The more I think about it, the more I realize that you weren't fucking with me back in the station." The statement took Yang aback.

"What do you mean, ma'am?"

"You have no idea where you are, do you?" Yang shook her head. "You've never heard of the Emperor before either." Another negative. "As I thought. I don't think there's another human like you in the Imperium." She paused. "Most would call you a heretic and shoot you where you stand. Others would call you Chaos-tainted, but no one as squeamish as you would ever turn to the Dark Gods. So, Ms. Long, you're ok in my book. And Emperor _Above_, you fight harder than any soldier I've ever seen. You killed more cultists than my entire task force combined."

"I did what I could. It wasn't enough." Vadiik laughed, a cold and bitter sound.

"It's never enough, Ms. Long. Humanity is under attack from every side of the Galaxy. Every corner, every segmentum. We need someone like you. Even little triumphs shine bright when surrounded by darkness."

"Ma'am, I've been a thrill-seeker for most of my life. Each battle, each challenge was a fresh rush…another chance to prove myself. But this… this is _insane_!" A heavy hand rested on her shoulder, coated in dried blood. "I don't know. I don't know anything about where I am or what the Imperium is or what Chaos is, or _anything_."

"You'll learn." Yang looked at her. "And I'll teach you." Yang wrapped the older woman in her arms.

"Thank you. I guess I just want to help… and still, I _still_ feel that itch. I'm still an adventurer at heart, I guess. Even in this fucked-up world." Vadiik seemed stunned by the gesture, but she eventually returned it, settling her head into the mass of flaxen hair.

"The Emperor protects, Ms. Long."

"And just who is this Emperor everyone keeps talking about?" Vadiik sighed.

"We have a long way to go."

* * *

><p>Yang spent the next few days learning about the world… well; 'world' was too small to describe her situation. Galaxy was a more fitting term. She spent hours upon hours listening to Vadiik speak, absorbing everything she could. Of all the things the old veteran had told her, the immeasurable vastness of space still blew her mind any time she tried to decipher it. The sheer unfathomable size made her head spin.<p>

Humanity had long ago reached the stars, filling billions of worlds with trillions of souls. Yang's mouth dropped when she heard that. Remnant barely had a few hundred million lives spread across its surface, holed up in the relative safety of the Four Kingdoms.

The logistics of the Imperium made her head hurt.

Then again, she'd never been a very ardent student when it came to classroom subjects. Nevertheless, she found the history of the galaxy endlessly fascinating. She wasn't a bookworm like Blake, but she still found herself poring over history books and religious writings (which, she soon found, were usually one and the same).

Around them, the village began to rebuild, recovering from the raid. More thought was given to its defense, and large berms were shoveled into place, small wards that would help to repel future attacks. Yang often joined the villagers when she wasn't with Vadiik. The backbreaking labor felt good. She found that for the first time in many months, her mind did not wallow in grief over Ruby, or whisper the need for drink into her ear.

There was too much to be done.

She learned about the Imperium of Man, of its structure and its enemies. Like the Ruinous Powers of Chaos, which had stormed the village just five days ago. Following four terrible, unknowable deities that hailed from the Warp, they sowed violence and horrors wherever they tread.

This Warp was mind-bending to Yang. It was a region of utter, raw emotion, ceaselessly shifting and home to legions of daemons. However, Vadiik explained, this region is utilized by humanity, harnessed in order to traverse the stars and maintain its borders.

But Chaos was not all that threatened mankind. Aliens, which Vadiik insistently referred to as 'xenos', were no friends to humanity. Yang would have scoffed at the impossibility of all the varied flavors of alien if Vadiik had not killed so many of them herself. When she asked Vadiik about the Empire's position on xenos, she learned (at length) the unfathomable depths of mankind's xenophobia and hatred for the impure. _Best not mention the faunus_. Yang realized Vadiik was radically more accepting than others, but even still, she spat and frothed over the evils of the inhuman. And something about... si-kers? Psychers? Wasn't that what the Traitor Marine had called her? Eh, whatever.

And while Chaos hard to accept, the most difficult (and baffling) lectures were those that focused on the God-Emperor. His worship was universal among the citizens of the Imperium, ever-present and domineering in its authority. This Emperor apparently sat on something called the Golden Throne of Terra, guiding and protecting Humanity in a deathless, catatonic state.

The claims Vadiik made about him were impressive, sure, but Yang surmised that much of the actual history of his rule and rise to power was buried or twisted under religious scripture and ritual. Even so, she didn't bash her head against the text trying to make sense of it. This was how things worked here.

But she knew one thing for sure. _Death and war _thrive_ in this galaxy_. It's probably why she felt the malevolence around her all the time, stirring and pulsing in the air. Maybe it was the week-old battleground, maybe not. She struggled to imagine her friends inhabiting such a cruel place.

Eventually, the books were finished, Vadiik's lectures exhausted. Wanderlust ate at Yang again, as it always did. She felt compelled to explore, to seek a life beyond the rows of wheat that surrounded her. She wanted to resume her life as a Huntress, even though no such concept existed here.

"Well, Ms. Long?"

"Well what, Ma'am?" They were sitting on the woman's porch, watching the sun dip below the rolling hills. The corpse-smell that had pervaded the village had mostly dissipated.

"Where are you going to go? What will you make of life in the Imperium?" She gave a small laugh. "Though I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to off yourself."

Yang pondered her words. And she knew her answer.

She recovered her old clothes. They had been washed, cleansed of the gallons of blood that soaked them. Inside one of the pockets was a slip of paper. Red stains lined the edges, but it was still readable. She put her Remnant clothes away, but kept her gloves. The rest, she packed away in a rucksack.

* * *

><p>Yang stood outside the officer's home, the rucksack slung across her back. She was wearing Vadiik's old attire, a green t-shirt she had cut short to reveal her midriff (with an incision on the neckline to give the girls some breathing room), old fatigues that she rolled up to her thighs, and a plain black belt. Simple, but serviceable. A little drab for her tastes, but showing up downtown with her regular duds would raise too many questions. And if Yang learned one thing from Vadiik's lectures, it was that questions in this galaxy were dangerous things.<p>

Ember Celica remained on her wrists, the reinforced dust-alloy shotgun-gauntlets a reassuring and familiar presence. She could put away her clothes, but she would never hide her weapons.

"Goodbye, Ms. Long." The ever-present cigarette twirled lazily in her fingers.

"Goodbye, Ma'am. Thank you… for everything. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met you."

"Probably would have died, I think." She said, the ghost of a smile on her face. "But don't worry, I have a feeling we'll meet again. Galaxy's a big place." She waved.

"And by the way," Yang called as she walked strode further and further away from the village, "my last name isn't Long! It's _Xiao_ Long. Two words!"

"That's nice, Ms. Long."

Yang left the village, heading into Aesbrouth. It was a three-day walk, but nothing she hadn't done before. She slept beneath the stars, which were alien to her, yet closer than they'd ever been. Nestling into long stalks of grass, she looked up at the inky blackness, and each dot of light, each nimbus of flickering white flame… the vastness took her breath away. The scale was utterly bewildering. She could spend her entire life traversing the Imperium of Man. The thought brought a wide smile to her face, one that lasted until sleep took her.

When she reached the city at the end of the third day, her mouth hung open, awestruck at how unimaginably vast it was. The smallest of the skyscrapers dwarfed Beacon, and each building was built in the same manner: sheer, soaring, and bleak. Busts, eagles, and statues adorned almost every corner, lending a mystic and ancient feel to the city. Citizens giggled and mocked her as she marveled, but she ignored them. She'd never seen anything like this before.

Eventually, after a few hours of wandering around in the shadows of the colossal buildings, she found her destination.

The Departmento Munitiorum depot. It was a titanic building, one about which ships flitted about like hornets, each carrying massive burdens into the sky. Entering the building, she found herself in a very long line. Men and woman, short and tall, young and old, queued in front of a towering lectern, one that rose almost two stories above them. Servitors abound scratched and scribbled, while some typed furiously on mammoth-sized computers. The man/machine hybrids still unnerved her, but the oddities of the Imperium's gritty and rudimentary technology were becoming less and less noticeable to her.

No one said very much. Yang guessed their minds were still on the attack. The longer she stood in line however, she realized that she was drawing quite a few stares. Yang decided it was probably her clothes. She thought she was dressed like a regular person! She packed away her favorite outfit for _exactly_ this reason!

But the outfit she had hewn from Vadiik's old fatigues was practically underwear compared to the garb of the assembled Woadians. It earned a few hushed whispers from the women, and a few unabashed leers from the men.

A kid, no older than sixteen, attempted to catch furtive glances at her while he waited his turn. He was a tiny little runt, probably just reached Yang's bust. He was dark-skinned and roan-haired like the rest of them, except his locks were cut short, and he was missing bits from his left ear. Yang grinned. Catching his eye on his next attempt, she threw him a quick wink. He blushed furiously, causing her to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

When her turn finally came, she handed the servitor the little stub. It scanned the paper in a second before making a mark in a voluminous ledger.

"RECRUIT REGISTERED FOR DUTY IN ASTRA MILITARUM." A small piece of paper spat itself out from the lectern. They were registration forms and instructions on where to begin her tour of duty.

She beamed. The Imperial Guard was her ticket to the stars. They were waiting, those countless dim lights, and Yang wouldn't deny them any longer.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Who saw that coming? I did. Then again... I wrote it. **

**So what are your thoughts? I hope I portrayed her decision realistically. You might say that she's not the one to sign up for the military, but I think since it's the closest thing to being a Huntress, she'd jump at the chance to have her old life back. Yang _is_ an adventurer after all. **

**Also, for fun: what are your guys' predictions? I have the story's major beats down, but I wanna know where you think the story is headed. Shout out to TheSpawn117! :D**

**Another stupid, random note - I'm having _so much fun_ writing this. Maybe it's cause it's Yang, or maybe because the WH40k is my true calling. (Black Library, _pls hire me_.)**

**Review Replies:**

**keeper of all lore: I'm sorry, but it's unlikely you'll find any direct data on the subject, as the pool of POV characters in this story is very small.**

**TheSolInvictus: I realized how right you were after reading through your review a few times. I changed the events a little, hopefully to something slightly more believable. And yes, I know how tough Khornate Berzerkers are. It didn't come across too well, but the CSM depicted here wasn't a Berzerker, just a regular (albeit Khornate) CSM. And I figured no matter how many enhancements you get, you get your brains smashed in, you die. Now if _that_ isn't canonical, fuck it, that's how it's going to be! haha**

**NIX'S WARDEN: Glad you like it! I considered making Ruby the main character, but figured she would angst a little too much about the whole deal, which isn't really the direction I want the story to go. She'd make a kickass Sister of Battle though! (If she could get past the whole 'murder everything slightly less than human on sight' part.)**

**thefluffyone93: Funnily enough, I don't know too much about RWBY lore either. In fact, no one does! I wrote some world-building fluff into my two crossover fics, but it isn't much more than rough estimates as to what the world of Remnant is like. Hopefully it won't grate if conflicting information is presented. And if Trazyn makes an appearance, it won't be from his point of view. As stated in a previous reply, the pool of POV characters is very small.**

**Heir of the Void: You'll not be left wanting for fun!**

**rustbucket1: Thank you so much! I won't be writing any story like that (at least in the foreseeable future), as one of the other three RWBYhammer 40k fics is about one of the lost primarchs crashing on Remnant. It's called "In the Grimm Darkness" Check it out, I think you'll like it!**

**reality deviant: Just hope I can hold it!**

**iyaoyas: Thanks again for your awesome reviews! I was more or less forced to start kind of slow, since I had to set up a bunch of stuff (as much as I wanted to drop her into the middle of a battle). And you're right about the CSM, Yang got lucky because she 1. has aura, and 2. knocked his helmet off.**

**TheSpawn117: I'm evil, I know! And interesting predictions! Sadly, Yang isn't really the Inquisitorial type... she'd probably subject the suspects to hours of hours of terrible puns until they confessed everything they knew! (The Grey Knights would be _utterly_ badass though!)**

**Whew! Thanks for all the support guys! If things stay at this pace, I'll have no problem keeping this weekly! :D**


	3. A Sleeping Beast Awakens

**A/N: Holy God-Emperor and the Thousand Saints of Terra! You guys are awesome! I'm so honored by the support you guys have been showing this story. I know I have a niche audience, but the constant reviews and attention has been extremely flattering. I'm thrilled you like the story, and all your kind words are definitely helping to move it along.**

**Ok, enough gushing. Time for some more RWBYhammer!**

* * *

><p><strong>Book 1: Baptism by Fire<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>-Chapter 3: A Sleeping Beast Awakens-<strong>

_"It's amazing how many things are put into perspective once you realize you've been using your squads' corpses as cover." – Trooper Neesh, of the Tallarn Desert Rangers_

Yang learned that Humanity was a space-faring race from Vadiik, but hearing such a claim and experiencing it was a different matter entirely. After a week of living in a cramped and stuffy barracks, officers rounded up the Imperial Guard recruits and marched them out of Aesbrouth.

It was no easy task. Ten thousand eager new soldiers left the city that day, ready to forever leave their bucolic homeworld and face the enemies of the Imperium. They were a constant stream of humanity, flanked by cheering citizenry. Lovers shared their last goodbyes, families bid farewell, and tears were shed unending.

When they reached the edge of a great plain, screaming officers lined them up, row upon endless row. Suddenly, the sky buckled, clouds parting in deference to the almighty beast that broke them. Yang saw her future home, the Lunar-Class Cruiser _Ascendant Dawn_. It was breathtaking. Utterly titanic, it dwarfed the Chaos vessels by leaps and bounds. Spires and weapons covered it like quills on an Ursa. It hovered in the sky, imposing and grand.

Most of Yang's fellow recruits wore the same expression as she did, slack-jawed and awed by the majesty of the warship before them. Landing craft spilled from it like ants from a colony, just as black and twice as numerous. They bellowed and roared as they descended, buffeting the plains with mighty gales of prop-wash.

Yang shielded her face, trying to keep dust out of her eyes. Her long golden hair whipped and snapped under the wind's assault, straight into the face of her neighbor.

"AUGH! Pbblltth!" The woman spat, trying to remove the mess of yellow locks from her mouth,

"Hey," Yang snapped, "watch the hair!" The woman scowled. Unlike many Woadians, her hair bore a reddish hue, and was tightly wound around her neck in a large, singular braid. She appeared to be in her twenties, just about Yang's age.

"That's my line, blondie." Yang frowned, recalling the last miscreant to use that particular nickname. She sighed.

"I'm… sorry." She stuck her hand out, still wreathed in Ember Celica. "The name's Yang Xiao Long." Her handshake was not accepted.

"Emperor bless you."

"No… that's my name."

"Really? Did your parents hate you or something?" Yang growled, grabbing the woman's collar in one hand. Parents were a touchy subject.

"I am _trying_." She took a deep breath. "To be _friendly_." A sudden crack of pain forced Yang to let go. She tumbled to the pavement below, and found herself staring down the barrel of an over-sized pistol.

"**Behave** Trooper, or you'll be made an example of!" The man behind it bellowed. He bore a huge peaked cap, and was garbed in an officer's finery. So sudden was the man's assault, Yang was too stunned to do anything other than nod. The man struck her again with a baton, and it deflected harmlessly against her aura. She pretended to be hurt, hoping she wouldn't have to start a scene by tearing the guy limb from limb. They locked eyes, and Yang bit back a snarl. He moved on, sneering.

Yang stood, cracking her neck.

"Golden Throne of Terra, what an _asshole_." The woman muttered. She looked over at her.

"My thoughts exactly. Sorry for the whole… grabbing you thing." Yang tried, shrugging her shoulders.

"It's my fault for being snarky. Name's Ros, by the way." They shook hands. The landing craft descended onto the pavement, gigantic pistons hissing and whirring as landing gear braced the vehicle against the ground. A ramp slid out from underneath a gigantic door, beckoning the recruits aboard.

A bugle sounded, the signal to begin boarding.

They obeyed in their thousands. Yang still marveled at it all. She'd seen the armies of both Vale and Atlas, but not even the armies of the two largest Kingdoms came close to the Imperium in terms of scale.

Cramming them into giant holds, they packed the new soldiers tight into the bulkheads of the landing craft. Yang and Ros were squeezed against the wall, Ros once again finding herself suffering a mouthful of Yang's hair.

"Why do you keep it like this? It's-_pbbtlh_. It's too much!"

"I like it." Yang said simply.

"Weird." They were silent for a time before Ros turned to her. "So, how did they get you?"

"Who did what now?"

"You know." Ros said, looking at Yang with incredulity. "Them." She gestured at one of the sergeants, who was busy screaming at the slower recruits. "How'd they get you?"

"I… volunteered."

"You're joking." Yang smiled.

"Nope. What about you?" Anger stiffened Ros, and her hands bore white knuckles as they tightened around her legs.

"A bunch of Ministorum officers stormed into my village a week after the attack...they refused to leave without at least two hundred 'volunteers'. Only a couple dozen signed up, and for the rest… we drew lots."

"And you got picked." Ros nodded, her fists clenching.

"Emperor be praised, it isn't _fair_." She whispered, the words barely escaping her grinding teeth. "I had my whole life planned out… had a good farm, a good husband… then they came and took it all away." Yang was taken aback by this.

"Wait, you're married?!" Ros stilled, her face furrowing and lips quivering. Finally, she spoke.

"Yes… but he couldn't serve with me…he had his right arm mangled in a thresher when he was younger. We couldn't afford to fix it, so I begged and pleaded… 'Give him a new arm, let him come with, I'll go if you let him come too.'" Tears welled in her eyes, her gaze focused solely on the ground between her boots. Yang was suddenly at a loss for words, an unusual experience. "He was praying too, begging to come with, but it didn't mean anything to them. They marched me off, and left him behind. Nearly all of us," she said, gesturing at their countless companions, "they're just like me. Conscripts."

"Wow… I'm…" Yang took a deep breath, putting an arm around the red-head. "I'm really sorry." Ros laughed, a bitter, broken sound. But she seemed to welcome the gesture, leaning back into the hard metal seat.

"Don't be. You're the dumbass who signed up to die, when the rest of us had to be forced. Emperor be praised, you probably saved someone _else_ from being torn away from their family." Yang hadn't thought of it like that. She forced a smile on her face.

"Ros, you have my word. We'll make it through this. We're gonna kick ass all across the galaxy, and when we're done, I'll plant your ass back on Woadia, right in front of your waiting hubby." Ros gave her a look of shock and disbelief that morphed into a small smile, draining the melancholy away.

"That's some of the sappiest shit I've heard in a long time." Yang laughed, and her new friend's smile grew even wider. "But damn, does it feel good to hear."

* * *

><p><strong>Two Hours later...<strong>

Yang watched Woadia shrink before her, a spinning globe of green, yellows and blues. So sudden. In a matter of hours, the _Ascendant Dawn_ had escaped planetary gravity, headed for the depths of space. Yang pressed her fingers to the window that stood before her, in total awe. Leaving Remnant to reach for the stars was something that only lived in the vague dreams of its most gifted residents. And here, in this galaxy, it was treated as second nature, yet another day in the Imperium.

"Crazy isn't it?" Ros said, hands on her hips. "We lived our whole lives there. And we'll probably never see it again." She gave a little wave. "Farewell, my everything. Emperor be with you." Her hands flew across her chest, a ritualized gesture Yang recognized as the Sign of the Aquila.

"Hey now, I made you a promise! We'll be back here eventually. I can feel it."

"I'm holding you to that." Ros replied, trying to grin. "Come on Yang, let's find our gear." She nodded, following the younger woman throughout the vast starship. The interior was marvelous. Its hallways were cramped and dank, but its meeting places were soaring and bright. An old, ancient architecture permeated everything here.

In a weird sense, the gothic spires and flying buttresses reminded Yang of Vale.

They found their assigned armory after a few hours of exploring the ship. Hundreds of new Guardsmen waited in line to receive their new gear. Ros and Yang joined them, two women adrift a sea of future soldiery.

"_Ros_? _There_ you are!" A voice called out.

"Oh, Emperor Protect me." Ros groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"Golden _Throne_! I thought I lost you when we got marched out!" Yang looked over to the speaker. He was a slim man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Neptune, if his hair had been cut short and dyed a milky white. A long white scar snaked over his nose, and passed through his lips. He looked to be Ros' age.

"You know him?" Yang asked.

"Every girl from the village of Bardigaal knows Caolin Roriksson. And Caolin Roriksson knows the fists of every girl in Bardigaal." She snorted.

"Not just fists, Ros!" Caolin cried from his spot in the line across from them, beaming like an idiot. Yang put a hand on her hips and slouched back, sizing him up and down. "And who's your friend? Ain't seen someone like her before."

"I have lots of names. But you can call me Yang." She gave him a wink, which he received with a sly grin.

"Now Ros, why can't you be all friendly like Ya…. Yang over here?" Ros scoffed, giving both Caolin and Yang a dirty look.

"Don't encourage him. He's an incorrigible flirt."

"He seems nice."

"Do the words 'incorrigible flirt' mean nothing to you?"

"Nah, I'm just playing with him. I'll torture him for a few months before turning him down. He's cute, but he's not really my type." _The whitish hair hits a little too close to home… _she thought, remembering her good friend Weiss that she'd left on Remnant. "Sometimes fists aren't the best way of dealing with men. Not often. But sometimes." Yang beamed. Ros managed a grin.

"I can't say I've met many people like you." Yang laughed. Ros was like a spunkier, talkative version of Blake. Just as morose, but just as intelligent and insightful.

"Stick around, then."

They received their gear, the standard issue green Imperial Flak Armor with three beige tunics and several sets of fatigues. Assignment papers were included too, declaring they were now part of the 111th Woadian Rangers, the one-hundred and eleventh regiment raised from the agri-world of Woadia.

Yang skimmed through the documents. 'Blah blah blah Emperor, blah blah blah Woadia, blah blah Imperial Guard, blah blah training blah. Oh, useful information. Report to barracks 0914. Guardsmen is now assigned to Gamma Platoon, Squad F, under the command of Sergeant Jorvis. Thankfully, Ros was assigned to the same unit. She wouldn't have to part with her newest friend so soon.

"Hey guys!" Caolin said, hustling over to them. "What squad you in?"

"We're both in Gamma Platoon, Squad F." Caolin grinned a wide, toothy grin.

"Oh, Emperor save me from the spawn of Rorik." Ros muttered, realizing.

"Looks like we're going to be stuck together for quite a while."

"I'm pushing you in front of the first xenos I see."

"Please, please! I got lucky that _this,"_ he said, tracing the scar that ran along his face, "happened to be sexy. No need to risk more!" Yang laughed. It was comforting to see a bit of normality in this insane galaxy. Caolin turned to her, a wolfish smile on his lips. "You have a resplendent laugh, Miss."

"Spare the gentlemanly act, ass-hat. You don't even know what 'resplendent' means." Ros spat.

"Not until I heard her laugh!" Yang laughed even harder.

"Wow. That was," She took a deep breath, wiping a tear from her eye, "that was actually pretty good!" Caolin bowed dramatically.

"Idiots. Come on, let's go." Ros grabbed them by their collars, dragging them to their barracks.

"Ack! C'mon Ros, I'm sorry for hitting on your friend! She didn't mind it but… I mean… Urk!" He tried, struggling to free himself. Yang just went along for the ride.

New friends were always nice.

* * *

><p>The barracks were large, but only in the sense that they stretched deep into the bowels of the ship. For Yang towered over the Woadians, and her hair was only a foot away from scraping the metal ceiling. Bunks by the dozen lined the walls, tightly packed and utterly spartan. There were no windows, no respite from the bleak metallic walls. The only illumination came from small lamps that hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a dim light.<p>

Recruits shuffled and ambled about aimlessly. Some tried making acquaintances and some just lay still on their bunks, pulling the covers tight.

An eerie, metallic voice resounded throughout the room, and presumably the entire ship.

"Attention, all hands. _Ascendant Dawn_ is now entering Warp Space. Attention all hands. _Ascendant Dawn_ is now entering Warp Space." The message repeated a few times before it died down. It was silent for a moment. Then everything went red.

Yang felt pain pulse in her head, a sharp ebony blade that dug at the crevasses of her mind. She felt angry all of a sudden, viciously angry. Murder. Her fingers wound themselves into her hair, twisting, pulling, _yanking_. Had to kill, had to maim! Break their bones, smash their skulls, that was the best way to do it! Tear them apart, just like Mother wanted. Oh, Mother dearest! Her _eyes_! A burning, bloody _RED_, RED LIKE **_ROSES_**-

"Yang?" Ros asked. _Huh?_

"Oh. Hn. Hey… uh… Ros."

"You ok?" The insane and frightening sensation passed, but the pain lingered. She was trembling and sweating, her fingernails biting deep into her palms.

"Uh... yeah... All good. Thanks." _What… what _was_ that_? She beat a hasty retreat, setting her things down on her bunk. _Just… act normal_. A small metal locker stood next to her new bed. She packed her rucksack inside, the small bag of canvas that held everything from Remnant, everything she held dear. Home.

_Ruby_. It had been awhile since her mind lingered on Ruby. The thought made her guilty, but remembering her smiling face and silver eyes helped the tremors subside. Slowly, surely, her breathing returned to normal. The anger passed, frightening though it was.

She sat down on her bunk, taking another look at the photograph of Team RWBY. It never failed to rend a hole in her heart, but at least it was something familiar. A reminder of a peaceful time, a time far away from the Imperium and terrifying visions of slaughter.

"That's a look I've seen before." She jumped, turning to face the new voice. A bearded man smiled at her, crinkled lines spilling from his eyes. A thin rope necklace hung about his neck, a few beads flanking the ever-present Aquila. An older man.

"What look is that?"

"Who have you lost?" The question hit a little close to home.

"My-" She paused, trying not to let the misery that haunted her to resurface. _Deep breaths._ _Don't cry_. "She was my sister."

"Grief knows us all in this time of war." He said simply, a small smile hidden behind the scruff of his beard. "My name is Rhain. Rhain Fyodyrsson." He extended a hand. Yang took it.

"Thanks Mr. Fyodyrsson." He held his hand up.

"Just Rhain will do. We are fellow Guardsmen, after all." Yang nodded. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Rhain clambered into his bunk, and opened a thin black book that had been included within their assigned equipment. '_The Imperial Guardsmen's Uplifting Primer_'.

Ros plopped down next to her, sighing with exhaustion.

"Pretty gloomy, huh?" Yang asked with a fake smile, gesturing around to their new companions. Ros nodded, yawning.

"We've just left behind everything we've ever known. I don't blame them." Yang contemplated this as the _Ascendant Dawn_ tore through the Warp. _In that sense… they're kind of like me._

* * *

><p><strong>Elsewhere, in the Segmentum Obscurus...<strong>

The grim and foul stench of decay was everywhere. It did not linger in the air or waft about with the wind. It crouched in the city like a foul beast, a heavy miasma that was choking in its fullness. Decius gagged and threw up, adding vomit to the blood and unknowable bile that caked his flak armor. No matter where he went, he couldn't escape the smell. His lasgun rested at his side, its battery half depleted and barrel burnt black from constant use. He checked it for the sixth time this hour, trying to distract himself from the mess he had made.

"Are you ok, Sarge?" It was Piona, the squad's flamer expert. Her face was stained black with soot and ash, but around her eyes a pair of orange goggles had kept her skin pale and ghostly.

"I'm fine, Piona." He managed, wiping his mouth. She looked worried, but perhaps that was just exhaustion, it was hard to tell anymore.

"What the fuck _are_ those things?" Trooper Tullius Pilavo. He was keeping watch by the window, base terror stretching his eyes wide. His knee bounced and rattled like a jackhammer, pumping up and down on the hardwood floor. A vox-caster was by his side, silent but for the hiss of static.

"If I knew," Decius said, "I would have told you the first twenty times." He sighed, surveying the remnants of his squad. There were only four of them left, four of fifteen. One by one, they'd fallen to those tainted… _things_. A rusted and well-worn gas lamp was the only source of illumination, casting a warm glow of the bruised and bloody guardsmen. With them was the only civilian they managed to extract, a Ministorum Preacher named Adavo. The sergeant bit back a snarl.

_ Useless, cowardly man_. Servant of the Emperor or not, he was nothing but a burden. He sat next to the lamp, froth-tinged prayers tumbling out of his wrinkled lips. He was worse off than Tullius, and his muttered ramblings set his men on edge, which was the last thing he needed. Trooper Gnaeus Dondara was also keeping watch, his tattered tunic rising and falling with each labored breath.

Outside, roiling clouds of thick smoke obscured the night sky. The city of Hastatus was besieged from within, plagued by these damned creatures, and the P.D.F stationed on the planet had broken apart under the sheer weight of them. They were scattered and alone, left to fend for themselves in the nightmare that their lives had become.

"Contact, we got contact!" Decius snatched up his lasgun, carefully edging his way towards a window.

"How many are out there, Gnaeus?"

"Emperor protect me." Was the only reply he could manage, and Decius saw why. There were hundreds of those shambling and decrepit creatures. They looked human if one spotted them at a distance, but after killing them in their hundreds, Decius would never make such a mistake. Their flesh was rank with necrosis, sloughing and covered in fetid bulbs of green rot. A low, horrid moan escaped them as they spotted the squad, which grew to an animal snarling as they picked up their pace. There were so many, packing the ruined streets with ruined bodies.

"Grab Adavo, we're leaving. Head for Rally Point Kappa. Piona… incinerate them." A weary smile split her face, revealing a row of brilliant white teeth. She hefted her flamer, the blue pilot light sparking to life. "I'll be out in a second to help. Don't use any more promethium than you have to."

"Of course, sir." She said, pulling her goggles down from her sweat-stained hair.

"Come on Father," Tullius said, pulling at Adavo's befouled robes, "we need to get going."

"The Time of Ending is upon us!" He cried. "The Curse of Unbelief will swallow us whole!"

"For the Emperor's sake, shut him _up_." Decius growled. The creatures roared as they saw Piona, stumbling towards her in their blind blood-lust. She responded, a quiet, harsh whisper that Decius could only just make out.

"Find salvation in purgation." The flamer bellowed, rending the closest creature into ash, and igniting his companions. The burst of flame lit up the street, and those that did not die howled as their flesh cooked and broiled. "Find salvation in your cleansing, and rejoice by the side of the Emperor."

Decius whipped around. Tullius was shouldering his vox-caster, Adavo in tow.

"Gnaeus?" The large man nodded.

"Let's go sir." Another burst of light illuminated the street, Piona's flamer purging Hastatus of its tainted inhabitants. Decius jogged out to join her, lasgun at the ready. He fired into the encroaching crowd, crimson lances of las-fire blasting the putrid beings apart. There were so many. And they were getting closer now, only a few dozen yards away.

"Piona, we're moving!" She didn't hear him. Her finger hovered over the trigger to her flamer, itching to let loose another lick of holy fire. "Piona!" She jerked, accidentally throwing a gobbet of flame into the face of a monster. It fell, its howling cut short by a fiery death.

"S-sorry sir." Decius didn't respond, instead, pulling at her shoulder pauldron. "Follow Gnaeus, I'll cull them a bit further." She nodded, dashing over to her fleeing comrades.

Hammering the trigger of his lasgun, he cut down the ones that escaped Piona's flames. He stood his ground, trying to shut out the reek of burning flesh. "What I would do for some grenades…" He muttered, felling another one of the cursed things.

He turned and bolted after killing the eleventh, following his squad into the depths of the city. They had not made it very far. They were beleaguered and spent after almost thirty hours of constant fighting. Decius could not blame them. His body ached.

"Come on, double time." He said, doing his best to keep them moving. The plague-ridden things hurried after them.

An eerie air pervaded the entire city, and it felt like each statue was paring him apart with judgmental leers. The alleys they crept through were still and dead, devoid of any signs of life. Corpses choked the gutters, and untold gallons of blood pooled in the street, stagnant and rancid.

It was Tullius' turn to vomit. As he heaved and shook, little more than water spilled forth from his stomach. They hadn't eaten in almost two days.

"Sir, we can't go much faster." Gnaeus said, his sweat-stained brow furrowed in anguish. "Not with Adavo in tow." The shuffle of monster-feet swelled behind them, hungering after the squad with frightful insanity.

"Soon, darkness will descend upon the Imperium!" The preacher bellowed, completely insensate and ignorant of his surroundings. "Repent!" He screamed, a crooked finger shoved roughly into Decius' face. "REPENT! For you have abandoned the light of-" Decius shot him with his laspistol, firing a stab of red light into his chest at point-blank. The corpse sank to its knees. A hole in its holy robes billowed smoke, carrying the scent of burnt flesh.

"Oh, Emperor!" Piona cursed, shrinking back from the corpse. "What the fuck, Sarge?"

"Gnaeus was right. He was useless." A singular creature ran toward them, hearing the commotion. Tullius let loose a single shot from his laspistol, which blew one of its legs apart. It floundered, falling face-first into a pool of viscera. Ignoring its wound, it continued crawling towards them. _Disgusting, foul, warp-cursed animals!_

"You-you can't just…" Piona stumbled for words, panic settling in her countenance. "He was-"

"Slowing. Us. Down." Decius growled, pushing his squad into a jog. "Not to mention howling like a mad dog." Gnaeus didn't say anything, and Tullius hurriedly performed the Sign of the Aquila. Unburdened by Adova, the squad managed to put good distance between the horde that had been following them. Eventually, their mad moaning faded away, lost in the twisting turns of endless concrete.

The stopped for a breath, sucking in the befouled air with desperate lungs. Piona still looked irritated and jumpy. Her fingers danced around the handle of her flamer.

"Sarge, why did you kill him? He was a Preacher! You-"

"Piona. I'm not going to let these fucking animals take another one of my men." Her face fell, the burning city reflected on her goggles. "If he'd stuck around, he'd be the death of us, and I refuse to accept that."

"I… yes. Understood, sir." Despite her initial horror, a faint ember of gratitude burned in her crimson eyes.

"Now let's go, double time!"

They hurried through the city, stopping for breath every few klicks and avoiding the larger groups of monsters. They couldn't avoid all of them, and every so often, they were forced to spend a little more of their remaining ammunition. The rally point wasn't much farther away when Tullius interrupted their march.

"Sir! I got something on vox!"

"What is it?" Comms had been dead for the last eight hours after the command bunker had fallen.

"It's a general broadcast from the Cathedral of Saint Celestine. A few platoons managed to hold up there."

"What's it saying?" Gnaeus asked.

"It's…" He paused, clenching the receiver close to his ear. His eyes went wide, and his breath caught in his throat.

"What is it, trooper?" Decius hissed.

"They've… they've received a warp-cast from Augustus Prime. The monsters… they're not just here. _The entire system is falling_." Piona's hand went to her mouth.

"Oh, _Emperor_." Decius' vision swam, and he steadied himself on one of Piona's promethium tanks.

"Anything else, Tullius?"

"Orders are to flee the city, meet up at Rally Point Theta. Wait for reinforcements." _Reinforcements. Ha! What a joke. If we're lucky, command will rain Exterminatus upon us._ The thought came to Decius unbidden, but he wouldn't let it show. He couldn't let his men despair just yet.

"Adavo was wrong." He said. His squad looked at him. "We are not doomed. The Imperium will stand for another ten thousand years, and I'll be damned if I don't see to that myself. Let's go, Guardsmen." They nodded, morale bolstered by his words. Even Tullius managed a small smile.

"And remember, The Emperor protects."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ooh, there's ominous shit goin' on here. At least, I think so. So yeah, there's going to be quite a few OCs. I hope that doesn't bother you. And don't worry, the focus is still firmly on Yang. Decius and his men were a one-tine thing.**

**By the way, I originally just had Yang boarding the ship at the end of the chapter, then fast-forwarding to a battle, and then introducing the squad there... but it really, _really_ grated. And it sucked. So I was forced to include a few more chapters of set-up and preparation before I drop them into the shit, but I'm extremely pleased with the results, and I hope you will be too.**

****Also, I'm sorry, but Yang won't be fighting any Plague Zombies. The second part of this chapter was intended as a picture of other important goings-on in the Imperium, not to foreshadow Yang's next battle. Sorry for misleading you!****

**Anyway, what are your thoughts? I'd love to hear them!**

**Review Replies: In general... I asked for predictions, and you delivered! You guys are the best! I was really intrigued by what I saw, but I won't be revealing anything yet... only time will tell if your predictions hold true... :D**

**Firem78910: A very good question! **

**thefluffyone93: Standards of dress vary greatly across the Imperium, so I don't think she'll get into too much trouble. But if she breaks out the whips and black leather, _then_ I'll be worried! haha **

**TheSolInvictus: Vadiik is an interesting case... so I edited the conversation slightly. I'd say she survived the Necrons rather than outright killing them. And yes, she _actually_ fought Dark Eldar, but I figured a footslogger like her wouldn't be able to distinguish between the two races. So yeah, she's been around the block! As to the strength of Yang's aura, I'd say she could probably take a few bolter shells. BUT ONLY A FEW. I mean, hell, she got thrown around like a fucking toy by a Paladin in Episode 4 of Season 2, and she was fine. By the way, thanks so much for your in-depth reviews!**

**iyaoyas: I had a bit of a giggle at your 'flak armor' comment... it's so true! And yes, Yang's reluctance to hide Ember Celica might get her into trouble, but it remains to be seen... ;) Training is coming up soon, and I think I've captured it well, but you can be the judge of that! As to the CSM, I agree that it's possible on the table (and would cause no undue amount of nerd rage from the CSM player!), I felt including a bit about how Yang uses her aura fits really well there, and is slightly more plausible. A win/win IMO. Thanks again for your constant reviews! They're incredibly helpful and always appreciated!**

**RED Roman Pyro: Part of...?**

**NIX'S WARDEN: A very insightful comment! All I'll say at this point is that your concerns will be addressed in due time...**

**undead3: Rest assured, I am trying to stay very close to canon. Yang threw a bit of a spanner into the works, and I'm trying to keep her from becoming a Mary Sue. As to what Aura is like in the 40k universe, you'll have to wait and see. All I can promise you now that it has indeed changed... ;) And the Woadian regiments are referred to as Rangers, but they're pretty much standard Guardsmen. However, the idea of Yang being stuck on some artillery battery tearing her hair out from boredom is amusing though!**

**Bear of Cali: Ooh, interesting! :D**

**TheSpawn117: Glad you like it so far! For some reason, I can picture Yang riding into battle on the back an annoyed Space Marine... it's hilarious. But it would also be incredibly badass!**

**Darth Cruel: Thank you so much!**

**PFCDontKnow: You called it! For now, Yang will let it slide... but methinks we haven't seen the last of the 111th's Commissar...**

**L4 Of the WEST: I hope you're having fun! I sure am!**

**DanAbnettfan1997: Thanks! I hope I can keep delivering!**

**- Whoo! That was a lot! But I love it! Thanks so much, and KEEP 'EM COMING! :D**


	4. Forward March

**A/N: And we're back! The 'training episode', if you can call it that. Thanks so much for sticking around! I'm seriously honored by all the support! You guys are the best!**

**Now let's get straight to it! FORWARD, YOU DOGS! :D**

* * *

><p><strong>Book One: Baptism by Fire<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>-Chapter 4: Forward March-<strong>

_"We are not the Emperor's finest. We are nowhere __**near**__ his finest. But we will die in our millions, each with his name on our dying breaths. So we will serve." - Veteran Sergeant Janice Vadiik, on the Imperial Guard_

Yang and her new friends learned with a little more reading that they were on route to their first combat zone, a planet named Elodia IX, an Imperial world that acted as a travel hub. It would take approximately two months to arrive, and the interim time would be used to train the 111th in the ways of the Imperial Guard.

It was a rough adjustment for many recruits.

The training hall housed a couple thousand troops, all in their fatigues. It was enormous, and Yang was baffled that such an open space was contained within a starship. They were lined up, ramrod straight, facing forward. An imposing man stalked up and down the hall, his footfalls thunderous and purposeful. He was Sergeant Jorvis, their platoon leader and drill instructor for the next few months.

"The first and last words out of your filthy mouths will be sir, do you understand?!" He screamed. He was a large man, well into the latter half of his life. Despite this, he was ridiculously muscular, his body covered in scars accrued over a lifetime of service. A robotic eye glared at them from underneath an officer's cap, red and full of hate.

"SIR, YES SIR!" They cried in unison, their voices echoing again and again in the vast, high-ceilinged hall.

"What in the actual _fuck_ was that? Are you mocking me? LOUDER, YOU PUKES!" His green overcoat quivered, shaking with fury.

"**SIR YES SIR**!"

"Emperor protect me, you're all _pathetic_! Are you fucks the best Woadia has to offer? Golden Throne of Terra, you wouldn't last a _DAY_ in the Guard! Holy groxshit, I wouldn't trust you shit-stains to clean out my canteen!" He prowled over them, inspecting each of them with his horrible, horrible eye.

When he came to Yang, he stopped.

"WHY IN THE NAME OF HOLY TERRA IS YOUR HEAD NOT SHAVED, TROOPER?" He roared, towering over her.

"_Sir_, no one touches my hair and lives, _Sir_!" She cried. They had tried to take a razor to her, but she broke one of the barber's arms and busted a servitor before they realized it wasn't worth the trouble. She had compromised instead, tying her voluminous hair into a tight bun.

"Oh, so you think you're some kinda hard-ass, do ya?"

"Sir, I have trained my entire life to fight and kill sir!"

"WELL FUCK ME SILLY, AREN'T YOU SPECIAL!" He drove a fist into Yang's stomach before she could activate her aura, sending her sprawling across the floor. Pain rippled through her, causing her to double over and clutch herself.

"NO ONE GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO LIE DOWN, RECRUIT! Get up and give me fifty push-ups!" She complied, still groaning in pain. As she did her assigned workout, she reflected upon the contrast between Huntsmen training and Guardsmen training.

To say they had differences was an understatement of the highest order.

"Let me get this straight for you scum-sucking ingrates! Most, if not all of you will die in service to the Imperium. Only those blessed in the glory of the Emperor can survive the rigors of service. A blessing," he screamed, "YOU SORELY LACK!"

"Do you have the courage to face the xeno, the mutant, the heretic? Well, you fucking _better_, because if you don't, the punishment is death! The punishment for sloth is death! The punishment for ineptitude is death! The punishment for cowardice is death! The punishment for desertion is _death_! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"SIR YES SIR!"

"BULLSHIT, I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"**SIR YES SIR**!"

"Now go! Run! Five klicks around the track, go, go, go!" Yang sprang up after finishing her push-ups, eager to prove herself.

* * *

><p>The two months passed by in a crawl. Many of the conscripts flagged and wavered, exhausted by the brutal training regime. But not Yang. Yang pushed herself, easily surpassing her squad mates. She outpaced and outfought anyone who challenged her. She'd been playing this game for most of her life, and it showed. Ros and Caolin were astounded, as was Rhain. Even Sergeant Jorvis begrudgingly acknowledged her skill. No one expected such sheer power from her slender form.<p>

Her only serious competition came in the form of Woadia's militia veterans, recruited from the ranks of the planet's standing armies. They were huge, hulking men, who were well versed in combat. Still, they fell like flies on the mat. The only one that gave her a moment's pause was a mute man named Mael. They had gone for six rounds before Yang bested him... and then, only by battering him unconscious.

She also threw herself into learning a new weapon: the ubiquitous lasgun. Yang proved to be quite adept with them, but couldn't hold a candle to Caolin. He showed an uncanny skill with the weapon, and Jorvis awarded him the squad's long-las, its sniper variant.

The beam weapons were superior to most of the firearms she knew from her time in Beacon, but they weren't more than mere flashlights compared to the boltguns they learned about. They were probably the most awesome thing Yang had ever seen. And that wasn't even mentioning meltas and massively effective but dangerous plasma guns. She wished she could see some in action, as the instructional (propaganda) vids they watched on the topics were incredibly entertaining.

If Ruby were here, she'd be geeking out over all the various kinds of weaponry offered in the 41st Millennium. The thought made her sad, but in the midst of training and frequent exhaustion, she rarely had time for grief anymore.

Sergeant Jorvis also stressed the importance of skill in melee combat. As Yang learned in her clash with Chaos cultists, the enemies of the Imperium often like to fight up close, necessitating the use of gruesome but effective weapons like the chainsword. She was already extremely proficient in hand-to-hand combat, but Yang couldn't deny swinging around a chainsaw that doubled as a sword wasn't totally awesome.

The only real issue with her armaments lay in Ember Celica. Technology was a touchy subject with the Imperials, and she hadn't seen anything similar to her gauntlets in the guns they trained with. Sure, there were a few shotguns with similar gauges, but the concept of expanding, multi-functional weaponry seemed foreign to them. Yang decided to put away her weapon for now. When it came time for deployment, she could pass them off as bracers... she'd just have to be careful with the shells.

She learned a lot more about Imperial culture from speaking and living with the other recruits. First impressions were not good. Even Vadiik's xenophobic dogmatism was insignificant compared to the average citizen of the Imperium. Despite this, her fellow recruits were still decent people. They looked out for each other, supported each other. Ros and Caolin were no exception, however much Ros tried to deny it.

And while the physical demands of the training were strenuous, they weren't too difficult for the former Huntress. After a while, training got _fun_.

Yang loved it.

* * *

><p>Graduation was a small and sudden thing, a piece of paper that each member Gamma platoon received. 'Congratulations!' It read. 'You are now a fully-ordained member of the Imperial Guard! Do your utmost to serve the Emperor-' which was about as far as Yang got before she threw the paper in her locker.<p>

Only a week remained until they exited Warp at Elodia IX.

Yang knew what awaited her comrades, and she'd do her best to protect them.

Her leg hung absent-mindedly from the top bunk, as she stared at the ceiling that was mere inches from her face. As scary as it was, the prospect of combat thrilled her. This is why she joined, after all.

"Hey, Yang, you gonna join us?" Caolin asked, poking her leg.

"Hm?"

"Rhain and Mael smuggled a ton of amasec on board. We're celebrating!"

"Amasec?" Yang asked, rolling over to face him.

"How can you _not_ know what amasec is? Did you live under a rock your entire life?"

"Don't judge the poor girl, Caolin!" Rhain rumbled. "She's never experienced the finer things in life!"

"Whatever you say, old man." Caolin grumbled. Rhain pulled him into a headlock, rubbing his knuckles into the kid's hair with a vicious noogie.

Ros watched it all with an amused smile. Training had worn the baby fat from her face. Now hard and lean, her visage was that of a soldier. Her red hair was still short, barely reaching her ears after the inaugural cropping it received. She handed a flask to Yang, passing it up to her bunkmate.

Yang sniffed at it. She grinned, downing the entire contents in a few seconds. The liquid was abrasive and crudely brewed. Only a faint whisper of grapefruit told her that the concoction was something other than rubbing alcohol.

It was delicious.

"Golden Throne!" Caolin called from across the barracks. "There's a woman who can hold her drink!" She gave a small bow, and belched. Ros reddened, ashamed at her friend's antics. Everyone else laughed.

"Mael? Was this yours?" The mute man nodded, laughter in his eyes. He was bigger than most recruits (still shorter than Yang), and held the honor of wielding the squad's rocket launcher. He chuckled. A low, strangled noise that revealed the stump of his tongue. "Thank you very much!" No Strawberry Sunrise, but it was something.

"My turn." Ros said, reaching for a flask. Rhain tossed it to her, the contents splashing softly within. She tried to imitate Yang and failed horribly, coughing and spluttering after a few seconds. "Fuck! How," a cough, "how do you _do_ that, Yang?"  
>"Practice."<p>

Mael took a swig from his second flask, some contents leaking out and spilling down his chin. He waved his arms around, a gather-round motion. They handed their canteens, and he filled them up.

He raised the flask, as if in salutation.

"To the Emperor, and the majesty of his Guard!" Caolin said, reading Mael's movements. They drank.

"To Ros, and her promotion!" Yang said, hefting her canteen. They cheered again, celebrating Ros' promotion to Corporal a week ago. The woman in question blushed, shrugging as her comrades cajoled her.

"Ah, you Emperor-damned idiots will be the death of me." Ros muttered, sipping at her amasec politely. Her face twisted up at the taste.

"_Corporal_ Ros has a weak stomach, it appears." Rhain said, grinning like a wolf.

"You have no idea." Caolin said, nudging Yang in her side. She giggled, starting to feel the warm release of liquor crawl through her. "I remember this one time…"

"No." Ros said, paling.

"I'm gonna tell them."

"_Don't_."

"Do it!" Yang said, leaning forward a little, hopefully tempting Caolin to do her bidding. Mael nodded, also interested in the story.

"Well since you asked so politely…" He started, grinning at Ros.

"I. Will. Murder. You."

"It was the end of the Harvest Season, and Ros' nineteenth birthday party. Naturally, the Bardigaal youth were out in force." Rhain rolled his eyes. "Ros had this huge party, had at least a hundred kids out in the fields, drinking bathtub amasec like it was water."  
>"Caolin you utter <em>prick<em>…"

"And Ros gets the brilliant idea to get her harvester and have a joy ride with her closest friends. 'C'mon you guys, let's make this party mobile!' She said. Accompanied with much hooting and hollering, of course." Yang snickered. Blake and herself did something similar during the 'Cruiser Incident' of which they did their best to never speak of again.

"So we're bumping along, and we here this shouting behind us. And guess who it is? It's _Koris_."

"Shut the fuck up, Caolin."

"No, no no, this is the best part! Suddenly we realize we are _not _on Ros' harvester. We're on Koris'! She stole it without even realizing it! I remember it, oh _Emperor_, the look on her face! She'd fancied this guy for _years_ and she stole his fuckin' tractor from right under his nose! On _accident_!" Rhain laughed, a rumbling, hearty sound.

"Kids!" He chortled, taking a sip from his bottle.

"Anyway, she stumbles off the tractor…"

"If you finish this story, I will personally drag the commissar down here and have him shoot you in the face."

"She's apologizing and stammering, and we're all making fun of her and shit."

"Last chance, Caolin." Ros said dangerously.

"And she ups and vomits on him! Three months later, they're engaged!" The group burst out laughing. Ros gave an indignant cry and tackled Caolin. Yang, struggling to contain her mirth, caught his canteen before it spilled.

"I guess you could say they were… a-tractor-d to each other!"

"Boooo!" Rhain cried, throwing his coat over Yang's head in punishment. A few other guardsmen joined in, hooting their disdain for her awful pun. "That was _terrible_!"

Mael let out his usual laugh, a small stuttering gasp.

Ros and Caolin struggled. Punches flying, legs kicking. Yang took a sip from her (Caolin's) drink.

"Gah! Someone ger'off!" He cried, trying to crawl away from the assault.

"I don't mess with rank." Rhain said. Mael agreed silently, nodding stoically.

Huffing and panting, Ros managed to pick Caolin up and throw him over her shoulder. He hit the metal floor with a dull thud. She straddled him, raising a fist to strike. Coalin shifted under her legs, his head narrowly avoiding the blow. Yang gave him a high-pitched whistle.

"Nice moves! Hey Rhain, I bet you two cups of amasec Caolin throws her."

"Traitor!" Ros yelled, trying to keep Caolin contained.

The door burst open to reveal the eternally pissed-off Sergeant Jorvis. Yang sprang up, thinking quickly. She smashed her hand on the floor.

"And _TEN_! Sorry Caolin, you lost this round!"

"Trooper Xiao Long, what in the name of Holy Terra are you jackasses doing?" Jorvis cried. His metal eye searched them for the slightest fault.

"Sir! We are sparring in preparation for planetfall, Sir!" He considered this for a moment.

"Out-fucking-standing! I pray to the Emperor all of the platoons are as dedicated as you!" He slammed the bulkhead shut and stormed down the corridor, leaving the barracks in stunned silence. Once they were sure he was gone, the squad burst out laughing. Even Caolin, who was still thoroughly pinned.

They got off the floor, dusting themselves off. Ros swooped down, plucked Rhain's amasec from his hands and downed it, this time without the accompanying grimace.

"To Yang, and her swift thinking!" Yang raised her hands disarmingly, pretending not to be pleased with the praise.

"Hear, hear!" Caolin echoed, nudging her. She grinned, and pushed him down onto his bunk.

"Shut up and drink."

Yang got drunk that night, something she hadn't done in far too long. It was nice. There was real, actual laughter in the barracks. Ros and Caolin got to reminisce (less violently), Mael and Rhain drank themselves to oblivion, and Yang enjoyed watching them slur and stumble. She couldn't help but feel like a trespasser of sorts though. This wasn't her world. Her fingers tightened around the canteen of amasec she'd been sipping.

And like lightning, the realization hit her. There wasn't anything left for her in Remnant anyway. _It doesn't matter that it isn't my world._ _This is my home now_. She thought, watching her friends' antics with a small smile. Her mind made up, she went to go tease Caolin. He didn't pay her much attention though, he was too wrapped up in a story Ros was telling. Oh well.

She stumbled back to her bunk, settling under the covers with a contented sigh. The barracks swam pleasantly before her, rocking back and forth like a ship on the sea. The sea. How long since she had seen a sea? She fell asleep, a canteen clutched loosely between her fingers.

* * *

><p>Running. She remembered running. Dashing across Patch and laughing. She's holding someone's hands and it looks like Ruby's but it's too bloody to tell.<p>

She's in a bar. Junior's bar. Lights flashed and pulsed, brilliant and stunning in their flickering patterns. The music here does not blare, but shakes, a low, resounding pulse. You can feel it churn your stomach, rattle your bones. She loves the music here.

get me another

don't you think you've had enough

no now get me another

you're lucky i let you come here

The bass drops again, thumping, pounding, constant. Saxophones sing a sultry, keening cry.

i love this song

She thinks, kicking her drink back. The alcohol, the music, they go well together. Both are bright, both dull the bladed edge of the needling pain that wallows in her heart and under her skin. They are sensual and alive.

She laughs.

But gone is the metal, the lights. Gone is the concrete floors and leather stools. It's wood now, a quieter venue, a different bar. Junior's place got busted somehow. Her finger traces the watermarks that stain the bar. The music here is different. It is not vibrant. It is black and white like piano keys. She hates the music here.

A faunus sits next to her. He's cute, with some deer-ears poking out of his scruffy brown hair.

hello beautiful

hello yourself

Somewhere else now, with faces she does not recognize. They are smiling, but she is not. PAIN is everywhere BLOOD OH DUST WHOSE BLOOD

stains everything and everyone and she clasps her neck hoping to stitch the skin together but hahahaha that won't happen, no sir.

HA HA the joke is funny but why is she crying? The dead ones beside her. They were alive and smiling but she made them dead. She _likes_ making them dead, she realizes, laughing through the opening in her neck.

* * *

><p>Yang bolted awake, nearly bashing her head on the bars of Ros' bunk above her. Another nightmare. They had pervaded her sleep ever since she boarded the <em>Ascendant Dawn<em>. They scared her, as did the violent, angry pulses that persisted in her waking hours, horrific in their sheer brutality. She didn't know if they were just nightmares, flashbacks of some kind, or something else. _Ruby. Think of Ruby._ Remembering her sister usually helped in abating the strange impulses. _Sweet, innocent Ruby._ Her breathing slowed, returning to normal after a few minutes of focusing. _Whew._

_What would she make of the Imperium? Of the death, the cruelty, the insanity? She wouldn't last too long, that's for sure._

She shuddered, wrapping her blanket tight around her. It would be another week or so before they made planetfall. Rubbing her eyes, she saw Rhain had awoken, and was sitting silently by his bunk, kneading something in his hands.

"Rhain?" She hissed. He looked up. Silent tears ran down his face, soaking into his thick beard. "Rhain, are you ok?" He nodded, putting a finger over his lips.

Exiting the comfort of her bed, she padded over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. His skin was hot and sweaty beneath it.

"I'll be ok, Yang." She fetched a clean (amasec-free) canteen for him. He drank it, but slowly, listlessly.

"What's wrong?" She asked. When he didn't answer, Yang sighed. "Who did you lose, Rhain?" He didn't look up.

"My wife. My daughters. My son." He said, his fingers counting the beads that flanked the Aquila around his neck. "Why me? Why did I get to live?" He looked at her, a flood of tears staining his eyes red and weary. Yang sat down. His words felt familiar. They reminded her of friends and loves she left on Remnant, holding them as they passed or hearing about their sacrifice and dying inside, bit by bit. The grief was a terrible pulling, one that threatened to rip her heart free from her ribs.

"Why did I get to live when… oh Emperor help me, Nedi was _seven_. _Seven_! They _ate_ her, Yang. Sick, disgusting, foul _bastards_." She didn't know what to say. "The Emperor protects." He whispered. "The Emperor protects."

"You… volunteered." She said.

"Yes. There was nothing left for me on Woadia." Yang shuddered. Two peas in a pod. "I'm sorry." He said, sniffling before wiping his face with the back of his hand. "The amasec brings me back. I- I shouldn't have brought any. The graffruit, it… it was Nedi's favorite. Nedi. Cef. Madra. Illys." Each name brought another bead winding through his fingers. "Nedi. Cef. Madra. Illys."

"They know you made the right decision." Yang said, trying her best.

"I know." He smiled. "I won't my loss affect performance." He gave a dark chuckle. "Might even enhance it, really." Yang gave him a small smile, and told him he should drink some more water. He did so, this time in full, flooding gulps. "Thanks Yang."

"Of course."

"Can you… tell me about your sister? If you don't want to, that's fine. I-" Yang held her hand up, stopping him.

"It's fine. It's ok." Rhain gave her a look. "Really, it is."

"Thank you."

"Well, to start, her name was Ruby Rose. Two years younger than me. Liked the color red…like a _lot_." She smiled. "Strawberries were her favorite. Always wore this raggedy cape Mom gave her." She twirled a finger through her hair, feeling it knot around her knuckle. "Always had a big, dopey smile on her face." He grinned.  
>` "She sounds like an interesting girl."<p>

"She was." Yang chuckled a little, remembering their first few days at Beacon. "A little awkward though. Had trouble fitting in. Never let it get to her though. Always upbeat. Always smiling. Even when the last breaths left her body…" Her hands wound tighter in her flaxen hair, pulling it taught. "She said…" A few tears pooled in her violet eyes, threatening to fall free. "She told me to stay strong. Give her that smile of mine."

"How did she die?" Yang's smile returned. If there had been any consolation about Ruby's death, it was that. She turned to Rhain, beaming despite the tears that crawled down her face.

"Like a hero."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I promise, the next chapter with Yang, they'll be in the thick of it. It's gonna be awesome. What did you think of the chapter? Too fast? Too slow? OCs grating? OCs rock? Let me know! Every little bit helps!**

**Thanks again for all the reviews, guys! I love each and every single one!**

**Review**** Replies:**

**DanAbnettFan1997: Hopefully I addressed your concerns here!**

**thefluffyone93: Remember, Papa Nurgle loves you! He just loves you more if you're a fetid pile of weeping sores and mucous. :3**

**L4 of the WEST: Hurrah! I aim to please!**

**Bear of Cali: Indeed!**

**TheSolInvictus: No grimm here, just regular ol' plague zombies. Just figured ol' Decius and the gang wouldn't know what they are, so they didn't specifically refer to them as 'zombies'. As to the bolter shell thing, you're right, but we're gonna see how the story goes. If she's lucky, she won't have to fight anyone with the ****wherewithal to come bearing boltguns!**

**RED Roman Pyro: Ooh, an interesting idea with the Inquisition! Rest assured, they're tagged for a reason, and you'll find out why next chapter! ;) **

**giodan: Noop, just regular plague zombers! **

**Yoshtar: Gwah! You're making me blush! Hopefully, I addressed some of your questions here! **

**deathwing316: Ooh, cool idea! We'll see how Yang does in the guard first! haha**

**AW YUSS, LOVE ME THEM ****REVIEWS**** *Uses reviews to fuel Astronomican***


	5. Baptism by Fire

**A/N: Buckle up boys, we have xenos to kill!**

**Next chapter of RWBYhammer 40k, _ALL RIGHT!_**

* * *

><p><strong>Book One: Baptism by Fire<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>-Chapter 5: Baptism by Fire-<strong>

_"Rejoice, my brothers! For it is only awash in the blood of xenos that we may truly live!" – Deathwatch Keeper Phaedron_

After six months away, it was time to get back in it. Yang's fist wound tight around a safety rail, keeping her anchored on the lander. Ember Celica emblazoned her wrists, ready to unleash havoc. Her flak armor was strapped tight around her, causing her to shift uncomfortably. _Always been a little tight on the girls_, she thought to herself, trying once again to wiggle a little more breathing room into her armor.

Ros was next to her, one hand on the bar, the other clenching her lasgun. Noticing Yang's eyes, she gave her a weak smile and a nod. This was it. Yang beamed back.

And she felt free for the first time since she stepped foot on the _Ascendant Dawn_. The red haze that ate at her mind was gone, and she could breathe deeper, stretch as she used to.

They were here to clear an ork infestation that had sprung up a few months ago. Orders Link up with the PDF armor, set up defenses, and let the stupid green bastards spear themselves on a full regiments' worth of lasguns.

The lander bumped and rattled as it burned through atmo, heating the metal floor beneath them. Many of Yang's platoon members did not share her eagerness for a fight, and their green, pallid faces did not improve the mood.

Ros noticed as well. Taking a deep, filling breath, she stepped out from her place in the line and brought forth a plastic jar. A shrill buzz echoed throughout the lander, and the lights extinguished themselves, surrendering to a low, red glow.

"All right, Gamma Platoon!" Ros bellowed. "Just like church, now ya hear me?" A few nervous nods from her squad mates, but Yang looked around, puzzled. The red-haired corporal stomped her foot on the metal floor. _Clang_.

"Today we ride forward to do battle with the enemy!" A few stomps from the platoon, in perfect synch. Ros dipped a finger in her jar, and spread a dye of some sort on the trooper next to Yang. "Under the gaze of the Emperor, we will grind the xenos into dust! ÁUH!" She shouted, a cry taken up by many of the platoon. _Clang_.

"We Woadians were warriors once!"

"ÁUH!" Yang joined in this time, grinning. Their boots hammered the metal floor. Ros dabbed a smear of blue paint onto Yang's forehead, making a line down her nose.

"And it is clad in the armaments of the Imperium that we will be again!" Ros traced a swirling line on her flak armor, and moved down the line. Mael copied her work on the soldiers opposite of her, another jar in hand.

"With steel and holy las-fire, we will descend upon the enemy!"

"ÁUH!" _Clang_.

"With the men and women of Elodia, we will make our stand!"

"ÁUH!" _CLANG. _The entirety of the platoon took up her cry, slamming their heels down. Even Sergeant Jorvis.

"With curses on our lips and hatred in our hearts, victory will be ours!"

"ÁUH!" _CLANG!_

"With joy and zeal, we will lay down our lives for the Emperor!"

"ÁUH!" _CLANG!_

"With fire in our souls, we will leave no survivors!"

"_ÁUH_!" **_CLANG_**_! _Reaching the end of the line, Ros turned to face them all.

"_DEATH_! DEATH TO THE XENOS! AND DEATH TO ALL ENEMIES OF THE IMPERIUM!" She finished her speech with a roaring shout that managed to drown out the roar of decent.

"**ÁUH**!" Yang screamed with the rest of them, blood pumping hard against her temples. _And_ w_here on Remnant did she pull _that_ from? _With a two-minute prayer, she turned the sickening, ashen faces of their comrades into visages of steely determination and zealous rage. _Scary_, _to say the least. They take their xenophobia seriously._

She came to her, handing her the jar. Yang nodded, understanding. Dipping two fingers into the cool blue paint, she mirrored the markings Ros had given her. The harsh, tribal war paint settled onto her skin, her countenance now menacing and cruel.

The lander slowed as it approached the surface of Elodia IX, jets kicking on and screaming a fiery rage as they fought against gravity.

Yang beamed as she watched the door open beside her. Prop-wash whipped at hair, sending it into chaotic disarray. The kiss of wind was a welcome one, a liberating and welcome sensation after the stale, recycled air of the _Ascendant Dawn_. They touched down on the dusty surface of Elodia IX, the lander's belly settling a yard above the dirt.

Sergeant Jorvis waved them forward with his chainsword, bellowing and screaming. They poured out of the craft, lasguns at the ready, faces painted a fierce blue. As before, the scale of Imperial Warfare astounded Yang. The whole 111th was landing, ten thousand soldiers lining up and disembarking. Dust choked the air, kicked up by the hundreds of landing craft.

The Regimental commander Colonel Longinus von Israfel stood above them, perched atop a huge rock outcropping with his retinue flanking him. He pointed and gestured, speaking a few times to his vox-caster.

He was too far away for Yang to hear anything he was saying. He raised something over his head and yelled, a cry that was taken up by the entire regiment. Even Yang participated, roaring despite having no idea what they were yelling about.

Rhain reached for the vox-caster he'd been assigned, fiddling a few knobs on the machine.

"We got orders coming through." Jorvis nodded, pressing his microbead further into his ear. His other hand blocked out the winds and shouts that surrounded them. While they spoke with command, Yang clapped her friend on the back.

"That was an awesome speech, by the way. With that kinda energy, we could probably scream the orks into submission." Ros grinned, laughing slightly.

"Really? Mael wrote it out for me. Old woadian battle hymn, with my own additions. I thought I made a mess of it."

"You guys did good." She replied simply, gazing out at their friend's painted faces. Jorvis turned to address them.

"Ok, listen up, platoon! We're heading out! Follow me!" They obeyed, falling into line and jogging after him. Ros was behind him, then Yang and the rest of the squad. It was hard to see past a few yards, such was the press of bodies and roiling clouds of dust.

The 111th rushed to obey various orders, running to positions and scrambling to ready weapons. Boots by the thousands ground into the grey soil, hurried and purposeful.

"Command urges haste!" Rhain said, relaying the vox-chatter to the rest of the squad. "The xenos have been alerted to our presence and are spoiling for a fight!" Yang grinned. Besides the traitor marine, the Chaos cultists had been easy. She wondered how orks fought.

It took an hour of pushing through flak-armored bodies and dodging the gigantic treaded tanks that bustled around the LZ, but they reached their destination, the crest of a small hill.

Yang took a few glances around, trying to get a better picture of their surroundings. Besides the huge hive city that stood leagues behind them, the surrounding landscape was mostly barren. Colossal mesas and mountains stretched out in the distance, as grey as the gravel beneath their boots.

A dust storm of some sort was heading their way, dust kicking up and spilling into the wind.

"Ok, Platoon! Orders are to hold here! The orks should be here in a few hours!"

"Where are the orks, sir?" Yang asked.

"You're looking at them, Private!" He said, pointing at the dust storm.

Yang gave a low whistle. Looking to her flanks, she realized her platoon sat in the center of the 111th, surrounded by thousands of her Ranger brethren. Behind them stood the PDF, who had marched out of the city a few days beforehand, massive tanks and vehicles in tow. Even a mile away, the giant Basilisks were plainly visible, mobile artillery pieces whose steel barrels reached into the sky. Leman Russ Battle Tanks sat in front of them, squat and resolute.

The longer she looked at the encroaching Orks, the more concerned she grew. The number of green-skinned barbarians that bore down on them was truly astounding.

"Spades out, ladies!" Jorvis cried. "Dig some holes for the xenos to trip over! Trenches and foxholes people, get on it!" Yang obeyed, joining her platoon in some laborious digging. Soon she was sweating. It was hot on this blasted planet, and there wasn't a single cloud or piece of shade.

An hour later, she stood, wiping her forehead. The orks looked closer. Too close.

"Hey, contact! We got contact!" She yelled. Jorvis ripped out his binoculars, following her fervent pointing.

"Well I'll be damned. They got fast movers! Lock and load people! Mael, get on that rocket launcher! Caolin, hit 'em as soon as you can. Rhain, get the Basilisks on the horn!" Yang packed her spade away, and readied her lasgun.

The platoon followed suit, scrambling behind the shallow trench they had constructed. Thousands of woadians followed suit, readying themselves for the ramshackle vehicles that screamed towards them.

"Artillery Batteries one through twelve!" Rhain shouted. "Requesting fire support, how copy?"

Yang looked down the iron sights of her weapon. Ember Celica was useless at this range, at least with the shells she had with her. The slugs would have been more useful, but those had disappeared when she arrived on Woadia.

"Coordinates two-niner, four klicks from map reference point Falcon-6."

The runners that approached them were quite unlike any Imperium machinery Yang had seen before. Threadbare and filled to the brim with hooting green orks, they barely looked functional. Bits of metal and rusted spikes protruded from them, all painted in a garish red and checkerboard patterns.

"Copy that!" Rhain yelled. "Fire for effect!"

The ground shook, vibrating from the unrelenting power of the Basilisks' barrage. Yang felt her stomach drop from the utter force.

Her hand tightened around the lasgun, ready, waiting. Thunderous blasts burst forth before her, enormous plumes of dirt and fire erupting into the air as the Basilisks struck. The vehicles nearest the blasts were vaporized, torn to shreds. More of them swerved and toppled, crushing their occupants below them. Each strike shook the ground, each blast blowing hundreds of orks apart.

Caolin's long-las barked as he tried to pick off the drivers. Red beams soared downrange, most missing their mark. Decrepit and crude though they were, the armored trucks were _fast_. One of Caolin's hotshot rounds hit home. The driver spilled out of his seat, throwing the whole thing off course. It crashed into another truck, ramming it and sending them tumbling end over end into the earth.

"Golden Throne! What a beautiful shot, Caolin!" Ros cried.

"Hear that, Mael?" Caolin asked with a wide grin, nudging the giant mute. "Actual praise." His face was still pressed into his scope.

Mael did not respond. His fingers wound tight around his Aquila, lips forming silent words that would never find wind. The launcher was braced against his shoulder.

As the trucks neared, the air was filled with their howling engines and hooting orks.

"Open fire!" Jorvis cried. Red beams poured forth, railing against the ork armor. They returned fire, blaring autoguns ripping into the 111th. A guardsman from their sister platoon caught one of the rounds in her chest. She exploded backwards from the force, showering her comrades in blood.

"Oh, Emperor protect me!" Someone cried.

"FACE FORWARD, MAGGOT!" A sergeant cried.

The flurry of las beams did nothing to stop the orks' advance. A round whistled over Yang's head, missing by inches. She grimaced, hammering the trigger of her lasgun. Mael gave a wordless roar, and fired.

The lead vehicle shattered and burst apart under the screaming rocket. Molten slag rained down around them, propelled by momentum. The Leman Russ tanks opened fire, scything down the poorly-armored trucks. Explosions and chaos reigned, a crushing swell of noise and heat.

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" Jorvis cried. The platoon echoed his cry, redoubling their efforts. Trucks slammed into the Imperial lines, crushing dozens of guardsmen under their treads. Some were impaled by the rusted rebar spikes that jutted out from their fronts. They hung there, screaming and clutching at the shards of metal that protruded from their chests.

Orks tumbled off their mounts, firing wildly and hacking soldiers apart. Now that she had a closer look at the Orks, Yang was surprised. In the Imperial Guardsmen's Uplifting Primer, she took every hate-filled litany about xenos with a grain of salt, but found the passages about Orks all too accurate.

They were huge and beastly, snarling and smelling.

"COME N' FIGHT ME, HUMIES!" One bellowed, swinging a primitive, scrap-metal axe around its head. Jorvis wasted no time obliging it, blowing the creature's head apart with a single shot of his bolt pistol.

Yang leapt to the side, dodging a truck that barreled into the battle lines. Mael's launcher swung to meet it. The rocket struck home, blasting the vehicle apart and vaporizing several nearby orks. They burst apart, showering her in gore.

A burning ork rushed at her, firing his weapon. The rounds crashed into her aura, throwing her backwards.

"YANG!" Ros cried.

"I'm fine!" Yang yelled, stumbling into an ork. She spun around and fired a salvo of las-fire into his stomach. He stumbled and roared, seemingly unhurt. Yang snarled at the apparent uselessness of her gun. She leapt up, straddling the ork around his neck. Unleashing Ember Celica, she hammered the creature, gauntleted, aura-enhanced fists railing against its skull. It whimpered and died, slumping to the earth.

An ork scythed down her comrades, bullets spewing from his mounted turret.

"NEVAH HAVE ENUFF DAKKA!" It yelled, giving a deep, gleeful laugh. Ros dashed forward under the hail of fire, tossing a grenade at the green monstrosity. She dove as it exploded, hitting the dirt as shrapnel tore the ork to shreds.

The din of battle slowly ceased as the orks were beaten back. The rickety contraptions that had assaulted them died down and broke apart, the orks they bore eventually brought to heel under a torrent of las-fire.

"Who's hurt? Give me a status report!" Jorvis cried, stained in ork and human blood. His chainsword gurgled and spat, soaked in viscera.

"We lost Sigfried, Malla, Varrick and Ludas, sir!" Someone cried. "Got a few wounded too!"

"Move them to the back and prepare for the main assault!" Wearily, the platoon obeyed, the deaths of their comrades pushed aside in favor of immediate survival. "Hurry, damn you all! They're closing in!" Yang peered over the trench, seeing the Sergeant's words were true.

"Smart." She breathed. "They used their vehicles to shock and disorient us, while the main force moves up behind." Ros wiped Ludas' blood off her face. He'd had his neck opened by an ork sword.

"Orks don't think like that, Yang. They don't think at all. These ones attacked first because they were faster." Yang let out a small laugh.  
>"I guess you're right! Nice grenade toss, by the way."<p>

"Thanks. Wish I'd gotten to it sooner." Ros said. She turned to Yang. "How are you alive?" Worry creased her sweat-stained face. "I thought you got hit by that big bastard with the horned helmet."

"Uh..." Shit. Shit shit shitty _shit_. "I tripped." Yang said lamely. _If they knew about my aura…_

"…Right…" Ros replied, ramming a new battery into her lasgun. Her fingers wrapped tight around the weapon, and she scowled. "Just try to be more careful." Yang nodded, having no intentions to do anything resembling that.

Caolin's long-las kicked against his shoulder as he fired into the encroaching crowd. The Basilisks fired into the mass, ripping gaping holes into the ork lines. Each salvo cut down hundreds, but still they came.

"WAAAAGGGGHHH!" They cried. Yang fired as fast as she could. She tried to pick her targets at first, but as they reached the bottom of the hill, she stopped being choosy. There were simply too many.

Orks fell in their hundreds as they stormed forward, their singular war cry unimpeded. Yang grinned. This is what she'd been looking for.

Bullets crashed into the dirt around them, kicking up dust and gravel. Guardsmen fell, torn asunder by the volume of Ork fire. A man fell in front of Yang, screaming in agony as his blood poured out of him in rushing rivers. Jorvis gave him the Emperor's mercy, before turning his bolt-pistol on the orks again.

"NO QUARTER, NO INCH OF GROUND GIVEN! **FOR THE EMPEROR**!" He cried, raising his chainsword high.

"**_FOR THE EMPEROR_**!" They echoed. Yang found herself screaming as well. Mael fired his rocket launcher, carving great gaps into the screaming horde. They screamed and howled, ripped apart by the furious guardsmen.

The lines met once more. Orks piled over the trenches, butchering guardsmen left and right. Chaos reigned, the shouts and screams of combat pouring into the air.

An ork pounced on Caolin, bellowing in his face while he raised his axe. Yang burst forward with her aura, slamming into it with all her might. The punch tore into the ork, sending him stumbling back into the waiting bayonets of her comrades. She hauled Caolin up. He looked shell-shocked. _Risky using aura like that, but he was moments from death. _Yang didn't give it much thought though. Restraint was never her strong suit_._

Another ork charged her, brandishing a pistol. Running at him, she fired her lasgun, which did no more than irritate its green skin. She ducked under its strike, but it kicked her, sending her sprawling. Her helmet came undone as she spun and tumbled, unbinding her golden hair.

"HUMIE TOO EASY." It said, firing its pistol. She was too fast. Leaping upwards, she brought a heel down on the creature's jaw, shattering it open. Ramming her lasgun into the opening, she poured six high-powered shots into its stomach. It toppled backwards, dead.

Death. She was surrounded by death. The press of the green-skinned xenos was too much. There were so many. Not even the armored support made a dent in their numbers. Yang dodged another strike, ignoring the creatures' guttural howls. Another, unseen, ork knocked her over, straight into the chest of another.

Disoriented, Yang fell to her knee, breathing heavy. A chain axe spluttered above her head, screaming for her death. A red burst of light knocked its wielder's hand away.

"GET AWAY FROM HER, _XENO_!" Ros screamed, bloodied and fierce. It was all the time Yang needed. She jumped up and hammered the Ork into the ground.

"WHAT'S THE 'OLDUP, BOYZ?" A voice sounded from behind ork lines. A giant, armored beast shambled forth. He was a good deal taller than his comrades, wielding a giant, beastly axe. Other orks broke away before him, cowering in deference. Their superior. _Perfect_, Yang thought, beaming.

"You!" She cried, pointing at the green monstrosity. "Come fight me!" It snarled. "What? You scared?"

"WAAAGGHHH! I'LL SMASH YOU UP WIFF ME CHOPPA!" It cried. Yang threw her lasgun aside, unleashing Ember Celica. Before the ork could open fire, she burst forward, screaming. Her fist connected with its face, shells shattering the creature's jaw. It stumbled back. Yang brought her arm back for another strike, but the colossal being knocked her aside with the flat of his hand. She tasted blood. Ugh. _Ow._

She righted herself, just in time to dodge the howling axe. It lodged into the ground, buried up to the hilt. Ember Celica's thundering blasts ricocheted off his skin, before finding purchase and chewing up the giant ork. Blood splashed her by the gallon, but she did not relent. The creature snatched her legs and smashed her against the ground.

Stars. She saw so many stars. She found herself on the ground, blood pouring out of her nostrils. Everything hurt. A small lock of golden hair floated through the air, lighting upon the grey and blood-soaked earth.

She snarled.

Its laugh was cut short by Yang slamming it aside with a vicious right hook. It stumbled, revealing the gaping wound she'd inflicted on it. Another guttural roar, and she ran forward, bringing a fist across its head. Its head met the ground, its oversized fangs crushed under the force of the blow.

She picked the 'choppa' up, swinging it to rest on her shoulder. An ork rushed to stop her, but its head left its body before it could get close. She raised the weapon. The big ork raised its arm, a feeble, useless gesture. "NEVER, _EVER_ TOUCH MY FUCKING HAIR!" The weapon whistled, splitting the xenos' arm in half and smashing its skull across the earth.

Vaguely, she could sense her comrades fighting around her, falling back under the crush of green bodies. These aliens were not the cultists. They weren't human, and would not stop their assault until the last of them perished.

A Leman Russ smashed into a crowd of orks next to her, adding another spray of dirt and blood into the air as it ground trampled corpses into mulch. Dust was everywhere, and visibility was around a dozen yards and dropping. When the tank exploded, all Yang felt was the sudden heat and wave of force that sent her sprawling. Crawling through the struggling and chaos, she came before the wreck of blackened metal and charred corpses.

Miraculously, one of the heavy bolters that the Leman Russ carried escaped the fate of its host. It smoked, sitting forgotten on the earth. Yang grinned.  
>Reaching out for it, a foot came down on her arm. While her aura kept it from snapping in two, it came dangerously close to depletion. Exhaustion seeped into her, sapping the strength from her limbs. The ork roared, hefting a machete that would surely bring her end.<p>

With a flash of heat and a crashing _bang, _the ork melted before her eyes, vaporized by one of Mael's rockets crashing into his back. Gore splashed her like a tsunami, steaming and rank. She thanked him with a nod, she stumbled forward, hands clasping around the bulky weapon sat in the dirt. Her ears rang, a pounding, leaden toll that deafened the battle around her. _Why did he have to use a rocket?_ She hefted the heavy bolter with a strained grunt. As strong as she was, the thing was _brutally_ heavy, and the handles were almost too hot to hold. Channeling the remnants of her aura into her arms, she racked the enormous weapon.

"DIE!" She screamed, pulling the trigger. It howled, sending .75 caliber, adamantium-jacketed rockets screaming into the mass of orks, tearing the thick-skinned xenos apart like wet tissue paper. She bellowed as casings fluttered out of the bolter by the hundreds. The weapon was so loud; it utterly deafened the cacophony around her. But Yang didn't care.

A resounding cry burst forth behind her, countless voices giving it strength. Rallying, the 111th Woadian Rangers pushed forward, driving the orks back. Rhain, Ros and guardsmen by the dozens stormed past her flanks, screaming wordless war cries. Ros drove a scavenged chainsword into the leg of an ork, severing it completely as it roared in pain.

Yang joined her comrades in their resurgent furor, stepping forward with her heavy bolter as it chewed the xenos to pieces. Her hands hurt, and the weapon's barrel was slowly sinking to the ground, growing heavier each second. Everything hurt. Muscles and sinew cried out in protest as she fired, but she would not falter. Not when her friend's lives were on the line. Not when she was having so much _fun_.

Another ork fell before her, giant thudding impacts tearing his body apart. Each step was growing more and more difficult, but she pushed forward.

Finally, the heavy bolter coughed its last rounds, the drum she'd been dragging around finally expended. She dropped it the instant the last shell left it, the grey gravel rushing to meet her. It felt like someone was stripping her muscles from her bone, and her breaths came heavy and hot. The endless, deafening noise of combat blended together, a droning mess of battle and death.

Blackness.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, what'd you think? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. (Can you tell?!) I hope you had a blast reading it!**

**A few notes: I originally gave Mael a melta, which TheSolInvictus made me realize was really quite silly. Maybe in the future...**

**And the orks didn't fight in the hive city because I said so. It might have made more sense for them to attack there, but that would have demanded more chapters and would have dragged out for longer than necessary.**

**By the way this is the climactic chapter of Book 1 - Baptism by Fire. That does not mean it is the last chapter in this story, FAR from it. Just that this story arc - Yang's introduction into the Warhammer 40k galaxy- is at an end. Just to clarify... NEXT WEEK'S UPDATE WILL STILL BE POSTED HERE.**

**Just so there's no confusion.**

**Next chapter - The Inquisition is introduced!**

**Review Replies:**

**DanAbnettFan1997: Hey, glad you like 'em! Put a lot of thought into how they interact. And I hope enough shit went down just now! **

**L4 of the West: You didn't miss a tick! Yang's arrival is supposed to by a bit of mystery. And yes! You're precisely correct. Glad to see that was coming off somewhat well.**

**TheSolInvictus: As I said before, Yang's dismissive treatment of the shaving policies was a lighthearted attempt at humor. But as you know, Yang's hair is a touchy subject... And I went back and edited the previous chapter a bit. I didn't mean to imply that the Woadians actually trained with Plasma guns! **

**RED Roman Pyro: 'Cheap and convenient meat shield' are probably the most apt words anyone could use to describe the Imperial Guard.**

**reality deviant: Thanks! :D**

**thefluffyone93: We'll find out next chapter, won't we? ;) Oh, and no 'Look out, sir!' for Yang, that's for damn sure.**

**giodan: I assume you mean Inquisitor... and you'll soon find out!**

**revanchistsunite: Holy shit, you are so right. The instant Yang sees one, it's gonna die, and the deepest pit of the warp ain't gonna be deep enough for that poor bastard to hide in.**

**The Walrus of Eden: Hey, it's only get more badass from here on out.**

**For all my weekly reviewers, thank you so much. Seriously. Without you guys, this story would be dead in the water. You know who you are and KEEP 'EM COMING!**

**FAVES! FAVES FOR THE FAVE GOD! REVIEWS FOR THE REVIEW THRONE!**

**(It's a very humble throne)**


	6. The Lady Inquisitor

**A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaand we're back! This chapter introduces 'The Lady Inquisitor', a character that will come to play a heavy role in the story. I hope you like her! I certainly do! :3**

**Thanks again for the support this fic is getting. It's so awesome to see you guys are getting just as much fun out of this as I am.**

**Without further ado, MORE RWBYHAMMER 40k! **

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><p><strong>Book One: Baptism by Fire<strong>

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><p><strong>-Chapter 6: The Lady Inquisitor-<strong>

_"I am not the type to stampede through a battlefield, nor bludgeon my foes to death. No my Lord, I am but a dagger. Humble, unseen, and silent in the night." – The Lady Inquisitor_

The practice hall rang with the clash of arms, a song of steel that soared into the upper reaches of the Black Ship. The Lady Inquisitor was sparring with her acolyte, exchanging a flurry of blows with blunted blades. Pouring her rage and frustration into a strangled cry, she leapt forward. Performing Exterminatus always weighed heavy upon her mind. She'd purged the Augustus system of its insidious plague, but at a steep cost.

Her power armor hissed and whirred as she danced around her charge. Sheer black and trimmed in the brightest of silvers, the ceramite plates were well polished, gleaming under the chandeliers. Runes by the dozens lined her arms and legs, wards to protect against the unknowable malice of the Immaterium. A long brown duster hung over her armor, matching her wide-brimmed inquisitor's hat.

She acolyte struck, bringing the sword around in a vicious arc. With a deft step, she blocked the attack, spinning around to lash out at his unprotected flank. He sidestepped, settling into a guarded stance. He was breathing deeply, worn from several hours of exertion.

Still, he rushed forward. A clever feint from the red-robed apprentice separated them, allowing a second to catch their breath.

"Well struck, Ira."

"Many thanks, my Lady." He replied. His hood dipped slightly, an indication of his humility. She chose that moment to strike, her coat whipping behind her as she sprung forward. Caught off-guard by her vicious haste, her opponent stumbled backwards. He brought a wide strike around, hoping to shatter her arm.

She flattened, falling under the sweeping blow. It was a risky move, and wholly unnecessary, but it would teach young Ira to prepare for the unexpected. The sword ripped her hat free, letting her ivory hair fall free about her face. Her hands caught her fall, and settled her into a predatory crouch. The Lady Inquisitor lunged forward, throwing a shoulder into her acolyte.

"Oof!" The blow connected with his exposed chest, sending him flying into the air. He crashed to the tile floor a few yards away. He made to stand, but his master's sword was already at his throat.

"Always keep an eye on your opponent, Ira."

"Yes, my Lady. Your second lunge was a stroke of genius." He said, breathing deep. She stuck an armored hand out, and he grasped it.

"It was not. But it was surprising, no?" She hauled him to his feet.

"It was."

"As it should have been. Do not assume the forces of Chaos will take a predictable path. Learning this increases your effectiveness ten-fold."

"I feel as though such an approach is just as useful off the battlefield." She allowed him a brief smile.

"An astute observation."

A sharp rap of knuckles interrupted their conversation. A voice called out from behind the heavy metal door that sealed them inside.

"My Lady, the documents you requested have arrived."

"Excellent. I shall attend to them immediately." She turned to Ira, scooping her hat up. An intricate mosaic of Malcador the Sigilite graced the floor, a feature personally requested from the Titan shipyards by the Lady Inquisitor.

They bowed to each other, a traditional expression of respect among swordsmen.

"Ira, meditate on today. I will summon you again for tomorrow's training session." Ira nodded, striding off to his quarters with palpable relief. He was an exemplary student (she would accept nothing less), but he still had much to learn.

Most Inquisitors kept a stable of acolytes at hand, and formed large retinues that followed them around on their duties, but the Lady Inquisitor was not like most of her comrades. Ira was her one and only acolyte. Yes, her team was smaller than most, but frightfully effective when brought to bear. Only the best attended her, and she was always looking for new applicants. Not many made the cut. Fleeing the practice hall, she made for her office.

Steps, clipped and sharp, echoed down the halls of her Black Ship. The Lady Inquisitor's duster swirled and swept about her, pinned tight to her power armor.

She reached her office, guarded by two Imperial Stormtroopers. They were kasrkin, Humanity's best and brightest soldiers, hailing from the fortress world of Cadia. The Lady Inquisitor had adjusted their armor to her whims, the drab olive-green plates repainted a fierce black and graced with a red sash across their chests. Their faces hid behind sheer white masks.

Saluting crisply, they opened the heavy oaken door which was inlaid with spiraling silver designs, and dominated by the rosette of the Ordo Hereticus. As the doors swung open, artificial sunlight streamed in through the windows, bathing the office with a shining, brilliant light. A mound of papers sat on her desk, as tall as she was.

A truly impressive tower of leather and paper. Oftentimes, she wished for more planets to invest in cogitators for their bookkeeping needs, but some worlds remained hopelessly barbaric.

She fingered the locket about her neck, the one of utmost importance.

"Only the Emperor is inviolable." She murmured. There were heretics everywhere. They infected every aspect of the Imperium, and brought dangers uncountable along with them. Dangers that must be purged, eradicated, cleansed in holy fire. _Heretics, butchers, and liars._

Sitting on her high-backed chair, she closed her eyes. Her mind reached out to the Warp, sifting through its roiling currents. Before her, the stack of papers separated into hundreds of leaflets. They spread into the air, slowly rotating around the Inquisitor as she murmured a quiet prayer. Her breath frosted before her, the room temperature plummeting to untenable depths.

_Useless. Useless_. Papers crumpled and soared across the room before freezing into warp-frost and melting away. It was a tad reckless, using her psyker abilities in such a matter (and telekinesis wasn't really her specialty), but the Lady Inquisitor always prized efficiency in all things. And Chaos had never tempted her. Hers was a pure heart, staunch and unyielding, tainted by the psychic though it was.

She centered upon a document, her mind focusing on a scroll as it unfurled before her. It was a shipping manifest. It had a few names scribed upon it, one of which was of vast importance to her. The name ran like blood off the page, reeking of death and corruption, bringing forth uncomfortable memories, but also the rush of victory. Finally, she had found him, and the plans that had been set forth a decade ago could now come to fruition.

Releasing a pent-up breath, she relaxed her hold on the Warp, the relevant documents coming to rest before her. It was time to strike. A vox-caster sat in her large and luxurious desk. She tapped its activation stub with her foot, picking up the receiver as she did so.

"Captain Barnes?"

"Yes, Lady Inquisitor?"

"Plot a course for Elodia IX, in the Rodresfiel Subsection."

"Yes, my Lady. I will inform you when we are about to enter the Warp."

"My thanks, Captain. Haste is of the utmost importance." Her foot left the stub, severing their connection.

As her fingers wound tight together, she pondered her next move.

The _Scythe of Morning_ left its orbit around a burnt and blackened planetoid, preparing to enter the Warp. In six hours' time, she emerged from the depths of her mind, a course of action chosen and meticulously plotted.

_Like regicide and clockwork_, she thought, standing. Pressing a button, she activated the holographic map that projected from her desk. In a flash of emerald light, countless symbols and worlds sprung into being and danced across the enormous map. Tiny figures sat among them all, each one incomparably dangerous. They were constantly moving, constantly prowling. But The Lady Inquisitor did not fear them. No, she _hunted_ them.

_Like_ _regicide and clockwork_.

She tipped a figure over, grinning broadly.

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><p>Awakening from her slumber, Yang surveyed the battleground before her. The dust had not yet settled, and bodies littered the earth. She coughed, a rattling, broken sound. Pushing herself to her feet, she scooped up her helmet and lasgun. Limping forward, she tried to make sense of what happened.<p>

The sounds of war were still present, but distant, alien. The ones who weren't lucky enough to die were screaming, left behind by their comrades during the press of war. Holding one of her arms, she made her way towards the sounds, feet tripping over corpses both human and ork. Blood soaked gravel crunched softly beneath her boots, the red foaming up about her feet as she plodded along. Pain pulsed through her every step, an aching tug that pulled at the edges of her awareness.

"Augh! Someone, _please_!"

Yang found a wounded soldier splayed on the ground, trying to stuff his entrails back into his body. Her hand went to her mouth, but could not stop the vomit from spilling forth. Crimson rope spooled about his hands, and he screamed and screamed. Sometimes he called for the Emperor, sometimes for his mother.

Wiping her mouth, she made her way towards him. Tears ran down his face, and trails of blood leaked from the corners of him mouth.

Reaching him, she shook his shoulders, trying to bring him into reality. His helmet tumbled off, revealing his roan hair and notched ear. _No. Impossible_. It was the boy from the Departmento Munitorum, the one she winked at those scant few months ago.

"_MOOOOOOOOMMY_!" He cried, lost in his death throes. It was then Yang knew what to do. Her lasgun found its way into her hands, the barrel pushed against the boy's forehead.

"I'm sorry."

The lasgun hissed, and his suffering was extinguished. No tears came to her eyes, no anguished wails over her deed. Just cold acceptance and unbearable weariness. She shouldered her lasgun and marched on, picking and climbing her way through the bodies.

As she descended the hill, the haze of dust about the air faded, revealing a line of green-armored soldiers and vehicles. Still clutching her arm, she made her way towards them. Only the occasional bellow of a Basilisk sounded, throaty and earth-shattering.

"Halt!" Someone shouted, leveling their lasgun at her. "Name and… oh, _Emperor_!" Yang raised her hands, seeing three figures approach her. Their faces were twisted in horror.

"I got something on my face?"

"You… um… Holy Terra. You alright, Trooper?" Yang thought for a second. Besides the general pulsing pain, everything seemed to be ok.

"I'll make it, thanks. You…um. Hm." She found it incredibly hard to concentrate. "Do you know where… Gamma Platoon is? They're probably looking for me." One of the Guardsmen set his lasgun aside and jogged towards her.

"Hey, easy, easy! Why don't you take a seat?" An extraordinary suggestion. She sat, relief overcoming her as soon as she fell.

"I take it that we won?" She asked. The man nodded, sweating.

"Minor casualties too. Sent the xenos packing, the foul things." He spat. "Commissar Daniloft and the Colonel took a strike force out and killed their warboss." He looked her over again. "Are you sure you're ok, you… uh… here." He reached into his tunic and handed her a small box. She pressed a button on the side, and a mirror popped up.

A demon stared back at her, and she watched its features slowly distort. The reflection was not one of Yang, but one of a blood-soaked and wide-eyed monster. Dried blood covered every inch of her, from head to toe. Her hair was matted and stringy, spilling out from under her helmet in a tangled mess. Some of it stuck to her armor, blood sealing it into place. She blinked, unable to recognize herself. A hand went to her face, to touch it, make sure it was real.

"I… um. Thanks. I need…uh... Do you know where Gamma Platoon is? They're probably looking for me." The guardsmen just shook his head.

"I'll see what I can do though. Hey, Gudfriedsdottir! Get on the vox, get a location on Gamma Platoon." One of the soldiers nodded, speaking a few words into a vox-caster. "We pushed ahead after the main ork force broke. Right now, we're setting up a perimeter. Are you sure you don't need a medic?" Yang shook her head. Her eyes did not leave her arms, both of which were coated in viscera.

She unhooked her canteen from its place and took a few swallows. The water was stale and warm, and tasted vaguely of dirt, but to Yang, it was sweeter than sugar.

The guardsmen led her to her platoon. Fighting to regain her composure, she took deep, filling breaths, but nothing seemed to work.

"Golden Throne of Terra!" Someone exclaimed. "It's Yang! Yang's alive! Holy _groxshit_, get over here, guys!" The voice was familiar… Ros? It had to be Ros. Sure enough, the red-haired woman bounded forward, wrapping Yang in a crushing hug.

She sank into the embrace, letting her face fall to rest against Ros' shoulder.

"You're alive! But how? I saw you with that bolter… God-Emperor be _good_! Just how strong are you?!"

"You were magnificent." Caolin said, limping up to them. Bandages were wound tight around his shoulder, and his face was covered in soot. "Like something out of Scripture. I could have _sworn_ your hair was glowing."

Yang accepted the praise, paling behind the dried mask of blood. She'd been very careful not to show off her aura... I_ must've gotten carried away... Thankfully, he doesn't seem... too perceptive. _She let loose a slow breath, trying to still her heart_. Breathe, Yang. _

"Thanks so much, Trooper." Ros said to the guardsmen who had brought her. They nodded, saluted, and walked off.

Rhain joined them,straining under the weight of his vox-caster.

"You're alive! You're a mess, but you're alive!" He said, laughing. "We were crushed when you disappeared!" Mael showed up too, elation evident on his face. He clapped Yang on the shoulder, beaming.

"What's all this about?" A familiar, gruff voice cried out. Jorvis stalked up to them. "There's xenos about! Why in the-" He paused. "Why, it's Trooper Xiao Long!"

"In the flesh, sir." She managed. His metal eye refocused.

"_Exemplary_ effort, Private. Now get that blood scrubbed off and grab your lasgun. Damned orks could come back at any moment!" She nodded.

Mael rolled his eyes. Caolin looked irritated at the Sergeant's comment, but let it slide. Her friends... despite her earlier worry, her friends were all alive...

"We'll be here for awhile, ok Yang? Why don't you take a load off, get settled." He said.

Yang gathered them all in her arms, lifting her four friends up and clasping them tight. It hurt, but she held them.

"You're alive," she whispered, sobs threatening to choke her words. "I'm so glad. I'm so glad." Tears poured down her face. "Thank the Emperor, you're _alive_!"

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><p><strong>AN: So yeah, I wrote the introduction for the Lady Inquisitor, but it ended up being too short to justify its own chapter. And I wouldn't pad it out (I don't pad out chapters, each word is there for a reason) so I included a section from the next chapter, which is the battle's epilogue.**

**Oh and yeah, Yang killed a nob, not the warboss. Sorry for the confusion, I'll copy my reply to thefluffyone93's review here: "S****ince the standard woadian probably doesn't know what a Nob is, I didn't put any clarifying language in there". I tried to make it clear he was just a nob (what warboss is happy with just a choppa?) but it was difficult. And if it had been the warboss, you would have _known_ it was the warboss.**

**So, the Lady Inquisitor is an interesting character. I'm curious to see how she develops. A lot of you have probably already noted she's a bit unorthodox, and that will be expanded upon, I promise.**

**And yeah, Yang is a little shocked by the ordeal, she's never really seen the full-scale, wholesale meat-grinding slaughter of war before. As to her last line, don't think she's suddenly turned into an Emperor worshiper, she's just starting to pick up the Imperium's lexicon.**

**Hope you liked the chapter! Please, I really want to know what your reactions are! Every review helps!**

**Review Replies:**

**reality deviant: I agree! Can't wait to see what happens! ;)**

**RED Roman Pyro: Thanks! I tried to capture some of the feel that the official art has in the codex. A wall of lasguns, and that patented IG 'shoot or we're fucked' desperation.**

**thefluffyone93: You are correct. Since the standard woadian probably doesn't know what a Nob is, I didn't put any clarifying language in there. Thankfully, the Colonel and the Commissar took care of the Warboss. :3**

**The Walrus of Eden: Glad you liked it! I don't know just yet about other RWBY characters. That certainly would be interesting to see! If they are included, they'll be few and far between. Hope you enjoyed this latest chapter!**

**DanAbnettFan1997: Yang with the heavy bolter was my favorite haha**

**L4 of the WEST: MEDIC! TROOPER DOWN! (Seriously though, hope you feel better!)**

**dksamuri: Yang is from RWBY, an animated series by Rooster Teeth. Very, _very_ anime-esque. Second season recently came to a close. It has its flaws like anything else, but it's worth checking out. If you don't want to invest the time, check out 'RWBY Yellow Trailer' on youtube. You'll get a great feel for Yang's character, as well as her fighting style, in a fraction of the time.**

**SixPerfections: Wow, holy _shit_! Thanks so much for all the reviews! I... wow! Alright, I'm gonna try and tackle all your questions and comments here. If I miss any, feel free to PM me! I'm so pumped you like the story and the cover art! Besides Time To Say Goodbye, I love shopping together cool little cover pics. :) Yang's relationship with Warp-Travel will be explored upon further, I promise! I'm also glad that you like the OCs! OCs can be the death of fics, 'cause if they're not done right, they drag the whole story down. I'm thrilled that even a few have managed to catch your eye. As to Yang's sudden acceptance of her new home, know that I fully plan to delineate on what happened back on Remnant to leave her in such a state! I'm glad it got you thinking, as that was more or less the intention. (But _definitely _****could have been done better) As to Romance, fear not! Without veering into spoiler territory, I'll say that I'm no slouch when it comes to romance, and it'll be done as well as I can possibly make it. I've put a lot a thought into the involved characters, and hope you'll be pleased with the result (THAT GOES FOR EVERYONE, BTW!). I _was_ tempted to give Yang a few flings (it's somewhat in character), but it just left a bad taste in my mouth, so I canned the idea entirely.**

**The Lady Inquisitor is an... interesting woman. That's all I'll say right now.**

**Oh! Almost forgot! Thanks for mentioning those forums. I just tried to look at them, but found myself very lost and very confused. I'm petrified I'll post something in the wrong place and have an angry mob on my hands! If you know the ropes, please, feel free to post my stories yourself. If you do, all I ask is that you link me the threads! Oh, and wait a few more weeks, because there will be a _lot_ more to discuss. ;)**

**Seriously, thank you so much for your support! I'm friggin' pumped you're diggin' the story despite all my fuck-ups. Each review warms my cold black heart just a little bit more, and seeing the stack of review emails you left in my inbox made my whole day. :)**

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for the reviews everyone! At this pace, we'll beat out Time to Say Goodbye in no time! <strong>

**Next Week: The Lady Inquisitor is on the warpath.**

**ONWARDS AND UPWARDS, MEN! _FOR THE EMPEROR!_**


	7. A Better Imperium

**A/N: Today, A World of Bloody Evolution earns its 'Inquisition' tag. Be afraid. Be _very_ afraid.**

**Oh, and huge shout-out to SixPerfections and flufflyone93, who told me to post on Spacebattles and Sufficient Velocity Forums. The response there has been incredible and I'm extremely grateful!**

**Onwards, for more RWBYhammer 40k!**

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><p><strong>Book One: Baptism by Fire<strong>

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><p><strong>-Chapter 7: A Better Imperium-<strong>

_"An exemplary graduate of the Schola. Beta-level psyker, bordering on alpha. Survived Imperial Psyker Sanctioning when she was eighteen. Without a doubt, the most impressive telepath the Inquisition has seen in centuries. Her transcripts show a cunning intelligence far beyond her age, and a drive for justice I've not seen in some of our brethren. Fear not Sister Steelshield, she's perfect for our organization. I'll accept her as my acolyte tomorrow." - The Hallowed Inquisitor, Lord __**[REDACTED]**__ and Inquisitor Steelshield, Lady __**[REDACTED]**_, _discussing The Lady Inquisitor, Lady __**[REDACTED]**_.

The Lady Inquisitor chose simpler garments for today. She did not don her battle vestments; the sanctified power armor with hallowed seals, for today was a different kind of battle. It was a battle long in the making, carefully prepared and plotted for many years.

Arriving on Elodia IX in only few weeks, her quarry had not managed to flee in time. Such was the speed and skill with which the _Scythe of Morning_ knifed through the eddies of the Warp. The Black Ships of the Inquisition instilled fear and awe for a reason.

To strike anywhere and any time, with exacting judgment and unyielding force, all in the name of bringing justice to the Imperium. Such was the purpose of the Ordo Herecticus. It was a will that the Lady Inquisitor sought to uphold in all aspects of her life, and one that she would find fulfilled today.

It was time.

Throwing her office doors open, she found Ira and her stormtroopers, waiting patiently for her exit. Her acolyte was a promising individual, and undeniably useful, but he was not quite ready for the mission at hand. His time would come. She addressed him with a nod. He bowed low, a fist over his heart. Her kasrkin guard saluted vigorously.

"I am off to meet with Inquisitor Ezzelino. You are in command of the _Scythe of Morning_ while I am away. Understood?"

"Understood, my Lady. I wish you luck in your hunt, and may the Emperor guide you to victory." She smiled and strode off. Luck was for lesser beings, for those who had neither patience nor deft skill. Although divine intervention was always helpful.

Her grip tightened on the inferno pistol that graced her hip. Surety in her plans was one thing, but preparation for any eventuality was prudence exemplified. Overconfidence would not be her downfall. Her power sword accompanied her as well, hanging steadfastly at her hip.

And in the most dire of situations, she always had her Ace in the Hole, her last line of defense. It would not come to that, though. Her quarry today was far too easy to necessitate his use.

Climbing aboard one of her shuttlecraft, she readjusted her fine ivory hair and settled herself within. It detached from its host craft and hurtled towards the city that glowed faintly on the horizon.

_A truly magnificent sight. _She pondered, watching the sun glow a mellowing, sensual orange as it dipped below the ebony skyscrapers of Primum Mobilus. _A shame I must visit… my comings and goings are never good tidings. Especially since the residents have much to celebrate. It is not every day an ork horde is brought to heel. _

Only a few minutes now. She tightened her fingerless leather gloves, relishing the black leather as it stretched over her supple skin. Like the rest of her outfit, they were exquisite, yet served a purpose, as did everything the Lady Inquisitor owned. Functionality. Practicality. Lessons learned as a youth that were no less relevant as an Inquisitor.

"We have arrived, my Lady." A voice called out from the cockpit.

"Thank you, Serviceman Chung." The man gave her a stiff salute.

"Yes, my Lady."

The door opened, and wind tore at her coat. With a hand on her wide-brimmed hat, she strode out to the meeting place. A precarious stretch of metal connected the landing pad to the interior, lit in the growing darkness by a series of pulsing green lights. With the howling of the wind and eighty stories separating her from the city, the noise below was little more than an empty droning.

The Lady Inquisitor shuddered still, for the wind chilled her. It was an ominous gale, one that smelled like corpses.

She had requisitioned the city's finest dining hall for her meeting with Ezzelino. The interior was sparse but impressive, with vaulted, arched ceilings and baroque architecture; it reminded her vaguely of home. One of the walls was not a wall at all, but rather an enormous window that gave a pristine view of the city.

Ezzelino and his acolyte at stood the head of a table laden with delicacies, as per her request. There were no waiters or chefs today. The acolyte was also here at her request, as she had been the one to recommend him to Lord Ezzelino's service.

"My Lady, it has been far too long!" He boomed, grinning broadly. His acolyte bowed deeply, as was due his station. Raising her hand to his, he kissed it politely, a lingering press that made her squirm in her coat.

He had never been the most subtle man. Even now, she saw the silken visions that danced across his mind, brazen and abhorrent.

"Lord Ezzelino. It certainly has been awhile."

"A while! You hear that, boy?" He asked his acolyte, nudging him sharply in the gut. "A while!" Inquisitor Luccio Ezzelino was a hulking, broad shouldered man, an impression made even vaster by the armor he chose to wear today. It was silver and gold, intricately patterned and thick as steel. A voluminous fur coat lined his shoulders, coming to rest on two aquiline clasps. A brilliant metal disk hung about his neck, engraved in impossibly tiny detail. Her eyes narrowed as they passed over it.

He _was_ handsome, the Lady found herself unable to deny that. But it was a base attractiveness, one that spoke of sheer power and unremitting dominance. His sharply lined jaw turned upwards in a large smile, and lights danced in his cerulean eyes.

"A while! It's been fifty years since we graduated from the Schola Progenium!" She returned his smile, turning her lips upwards.

"At the top of our class, if I recall correctly." Ezzelino chuckled.

"You recall perfectly, as per usual." At the Schola, they had indeed graduated with full honors. The Lady Inquisitor had been academically dominant, while Ezzelino had been physically unbeatable and vehement in his faith. Both had been marked for the Inquisition at an early age. However, like their academic records, the two Inquisitors varied greatly in their approaches to resolving heresy.

She took her seat, scooting the mahogany chair softly across the velvet carpet.

"Now, my Lord, I fear I have unwelcome news." She started.

"Right to business? Come now, we must be friendly first!" He said, his mouth bearing a smile his eyes did not share. She sighed, and unclasped her coat, letting it fall about her. The outfit she had chosen for today elicited exactly the response she expected. Even if she were not a psyker (and able to read his thoughts like text upon vellum), the sheer desire that spilled from Ezzelino would have choked her.

Tonight she wore an open-fronted jacket, covering a tightly wound raven-black bodice that was trimmed in velvet and exposed her cleavage. Combat leather stretched the length of her legs, meeting tall heels that wrapped her feet in metal.

"I suppose we may speak about other things for a bit." It was the least she could do. _All_ she would do. The time was not yet right.

"So tell me, how has life been for the Schola's flawless gem?" She sneered at the old title. It had been too soon since she heard it last. Not like anyone other than Ezzelino used it anyways.

"I am the same as you, my Lord. I hunt the enemies of the Imperium."

"Just as closed off as before. Very well, I shall begin. I have been very busy these past few decades. Heretics, mutants and witches are springing up at an alarming rate." The Lady Inquisitor nodded. He was not wrong. "I visited Elodia IX with the express purpose of clearing it of infestation. The taint of Chaos had spread to even the Lord Governor and his officials."

With that, she slid into his mind like a shiv between the ribs. Around his mind lay defenses so laughable and crude, they would make an ork blush. He remained unaware, smiling as he regaled her with his butchery. She nodded and prompted him, scanning his memories and secrets like a particularly tasteless dime-store novel.

He was lying about his most recent investigation. Only the Lord Governor had been touched by Chaos.

"Him and his cabinet were executed immediately." This was the truth. He had butchered them like animals, smoking them and their families out of their homes and blowing the remains apart with holy bolter rounds. She watched them die, the memories tinged with a hint of savory, repugnant satisfaction.

"It is comforting to know the Emperor's justice has been done." Inwardly, she sneered. Justice. Ha! What a base _joke_. "I have been busy as well. I recently uncovered several seditious plots on the outer reaches of the Imperium."

"Oh?"

"Yes. They were well-organized and expertly planned. But they were no match for me."

"You give the heretic scum much credit." She folded her hands before her, cocking her head at the man.

"Underestimating an opponent is the first step in ensuring his dagger finds its way into your back." Ezzelino guffawed, beaming at his acolyte, who merely nodded.

"You haven't changed! Fifty years and you are the same as the day I first met you. Just as beautiful too." He winked. Flitting visions of herself skirted about in his mind's eye, where she lay moaning, naked and vulnerable. She tried not to gag.

"I see." She sighed. It was only as well that he was easy to manipulate. "I find you quite unchanged as well. You are just as brash and uncouth as I remember." Inquisitor Ezzelino stopped, his features falling before erupting into another boisterous laugh.

"How cold, my friend!" The acolyte suppressed a spreading smile.

"Now please, my Lord, the business at hand."

"Yes, yes of course! But first-"

"Some wine." She said, interrupting him with a smile and two flutes. The drink was from her personal stores. It was a rare vintage, not that the ape before her would know. And quite unlike Ezzelino, she paid for the privilege of enjoying it, instead of just requisitioning it, as was well within her rights.

Her finger ran around the rim of a flute, while she flashed him her most brilliant smile.

"I assure you My Lord, it is quite unlike any other you have tasted."

He bought it. Hook, line and sinker. For now she was forced to stoke his dreams of sleeping with her. But not for much longer.

"That remains to be seen, My Lady." He answered with a sly smile. She poured the liquid out, a heady crimson brew, aged for two centuries on Johannesburg I. Their flutes met in a tinkle of glass.

"May Mount Amalath forever shine upon your path." Such a benediction was a standard quip from the puritanical faction of Inquisitors to which Ezzelino belonged. They were staunch in their convictions that the Emperor's master plan was unfolding around them, perfect and immutable. The Lady Inquisitor had nothing but contempt in her heart for the 'Amalathians'. Stagnant, foolish, and backwards, the lot of them.

"And upon yours as well."

They sipped the beverage politely. The wine was dry, but with a fruity relish that danced an elegant step on her tongue.

"Rutilius Amor... from Johannesburg I – M41.799. A good year." She said.

"A good year." Idiot. Rare thought it was, it was the cheapest vintage she could bear to consume. "Now tell me, what so wounded your pride that caused you to come crawling for assistance?"

The Lady Inquisitor fought back a snarl of indignation. _If only you knew the real reason I sought you out._

"I have recently been forced to perform Exterminatus, on a system-wide scale. An infestation of Plague Zombies brought hundreds of millions to their knees, and despite my best efforts, the source eluded me." He paled.

"I was not aware of this."

"That is unsurprising." An upturned eyebrow.

"And why is that?"

"Because you are a pathetic excuse for an Inquisitor." He spluttered, chocking on his wine. He coughed, his visage turning grim and dangerous.

"You dare insult me like this?!" He said, words sliding out in menacing crawl.

"My business is not in daring." She sipped her wine, and appraised the color of the drink as she sloshed it around in the flute. "It is in knowing. And I know everything about you."

"Emperor _protect_ me, you're an arrogant bitch!"

"Let's not bring the Emperor into this. I know as well as you do your faith is as false as your smiles. You have played up your zeal as a front, believing – correctly, I might add – that it would get you farther in life."

"You _lie_!"

"I have seen it in your mind." He snarled, knocking a tray of food off the table to send it scattering across the room.

"I knew you were a fucking psyker, but I didn't know-" At this, the Lady Inquisitor let loose a loud, uproarious laugh.

"You never know! You truly have not changed from the simpleton I knew all those decades ago." She scoffed again. "Although, to what little credit you deserve, not even the drill abbots knew the extent of my abilities." She chuckled. "I might not be able to summon holy gouts of flame or hurl thundering storms of lightening, but for investigative purpose, my abilities are _unparalleled_. Your mind is like an open book."

"You little _bitch_! I'll have you in for witchcraft!"

"I'm sanctioned, so I doubt you'd get very far."

"Rooting around in my mind like-"

"Your father raped you until you were fourteen, and Chaos cultists made you an orphan." She said, taking another sip of the wine. Tasty stuff. "That's why you make sure the doors on your ship are well oiled. The squeaking reminds of you of his visits, when your bedroom door would open and you'd see his smiling face. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, My Lord, but he was missing an incisor on his bottom jaw, was he not? That's what you hated most about his smile." She paused, relishing the sweat that beaded upon his forehead, the metallic tinge of fear that settled in his countenance.

"I used to pity you, you know. Until I learned what a violent brute you were. I tried my best to help you, but you were only interested in what lay between my legs." Ezzelino's acolyte sat peacefully, unperturbed by the revelations laid before him. "It is a burden, I admit. I am intimately aware of the intentions and miseries of those who surround me. Yours were always simple though, so praise the Emperor for small favors." He growled, and red anger radiated from him. She continued.

"Always seeking violence. How many have you killed in the name of the Emperor? How many have you slain on trumped-charges of taint and rebellion? How many innocents have been tortured on your orders?" She laughed, a cold and spritely sound. "I've read your reports. You performed Exterminatus on no less than three separate occasions, on charges that were –frankly– thin."

"They were valid-"

"You cannot lie to me, so do not try. I know that you wanted to see a world burn at your word, and practically invented cults so you could watch it happen. You are a monster. May the Emperor have pity on you, you miserable sot of a man."

In an instant, he drew his bolt pistol, leveling it directly at her forehead. She took a sip of wine.

"My Lady." A voice whispered in her microbead. She dismissed it, showing a palm to the window.

"Calm yourself Luccio." The sudden use of his first name shocked him out of his anger. He coughed then, beating at his chest with a meaty, gauntleted fist. "I shall forget you leveled your weapon at me, for now at least."

"Why did you meet with me tonight? What purpose do you have in torturing me?!" He demanded, slamming the pistol down on the table, splintering the wood apart.

"I need your help, My Lord."

"With _what_?" He spat, froth railing across his lips.

"I'm building a better Inquisition. A better Imperium. Tell me, have you read the works of Gideon Ravenor?"

"'The Spheres of Longing'?" He huffed, his face red and blotchy from coughing. "I have perused them."

"I figured as much. In his works, you recall, there's a… pattern in his writings, a chorus of sorts… 'Only the Emperor is inviolate'."

"Such a statement is obvious."

"You were never truly an idiot, My Lord, just never quite as keen as myself or our peers. It is obvious yes, but the _purpose_ of such a statement is not one of fact… it is more about what such a fact implies. _Only_ the Emperor is inviolable." She stood, neatly tucking her chair into its place.

"Not his saints. Not the holiest bearers of his divine word." A sly grin crawled across her face. "And not even his Inquisitors."

"So what does this have to do with 'building a better Imperium'?" He demanded. "Why do you need my help if you despise me so much?!" He said.

"It's simple, My Lord." She leaned forward. "I need you to die."

He paled, realizing. Another cough wracked his body, shaking his enormous frame.

"You are now thinking of that finger I traced so seductively across a glass. Your glass."

"You cunt!" He shrieked, reaching for his bolt pistol. The Lady Inquisitor was faster, kicking it out of his reach.

"You are thinking I may have dipped my finger in poison."

"**_GET OUT OF MY HEAD_**!"

Another cough, but one that did not subside. Instead, it spat blood across the table, spilling through the hand he used in an attempt to stem it.

"So yes, My Lord, I'm building a better Inquisition. One Inquisitor at a time." His acolyte removed himself from his seat, standing next to the Lady Inquisitor.

"You…_traitor_!"

Their matching sterling necklaces glittered in the soft candlelight.

"It is a shame that Inquisitor Ezzelino succumbed to the wiles of a lowly slaaneshi cultist. Is it not?"

"It is." The acolyte said, shaking his head. A recent induction into the Recongregationalists, he was the linchpin around which the assassination of Ezzelino revolved. Now that he was on his way to join the emperor, the Lady Inquisitor and her comrades could be content that a comrade was replacing him.

"For how could he have known her murderous intentions? If he was only a little better at discerning motives and investigation instead of wanton slaughter, perhaps he would have learned in time."

"Such a shame." He agreed. Ezzelino was retching now, blood and vomit flooding from his nose and mouth.

"It is a good thing I was there to witness him bequeath his Inquisitorial duties to his loyal acolyte before he passed." The Lady Inquisitor said.

"Indeed, it was quite fortunate."

Inquisitor Ezzelino desperately clung to life, crimson tears streaming from his eyes as he writhed about on the floor. Bile and blood streaked his hands as he wormed his way to his bolt-pistol, a destination he would never reach.

"I suppose congratulations are in order." She shook the Acolyte's hand. "Oh, and Luccio," she said, turning to face the dying man, "may the light of Amalath forever light your path." He gave one more rattling cough before expiring.

"It is done." The acolyte intoned.

"Indeed." She kicked his body over, tearing his necklace from its place around his neck. _A holy sealing relic… and the greedy bastard wore it as if it was some kind of charm._ "I'll be taking this back to its rightful place, wherever that may be." With a delicate hand, she carefully folded up the relic, wrapping it red silk. A sigh escaped her. Finally, the bastard was dead. She withdrew his seal and tossed it to the acolyte, who caught it in a deft hand.

Still, she felt uneasy. The zombie plagues that were cropping up implied disturbing things. Or… was it something here? On Elodia? She knew a Guard regiment was stationed nearby. Stalking over to the window, a gloved hand caressed the polished glass, and a blanket of psychic energy pulsed throughout Primum Mobilus.

A beacon of psychic energy came back, so bright and so powerful it brought her to her knees.

"My Lady!" The newly-ordained Inquisitor cried, running over to her.

"I'm fine." She waved off his helping hand. "Truly, I am." Blood seeped into her lips, a red trail that ran from her nose. Dabbing at it, she looked out at the city with ice-cold eyes. Tapping her microbead, she spoke in a low, hushed whisper.

"Ira. Contact the regimental commander of the Guard here. _Immediately_." _The sheer power that radiates off this being…_ _God-Emperor and the Thousand Saints of Terra…_ She couldn't even get a good location on the psyker, so great was its power. The former acolyte looked at her, eyes wide with worry.

"Is there something amiss?" She rounded on him, fear pulling at her face for the first time in decades.

"Yes. God-Emperor help us all, _yes_."

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><p><strong>AN: Tl;dr: Don't fuck with The Lady Inquisitor.**

**I apologize for the lack of Yang in this chapter! This chapter was necessary on a few levels, both to fully develop The Lady Inquisitor and to explain why she's on Elodia (as well as introducing the Inquisitorial shadow war plot element). As of chapter 13, this is the only fully TLI chapter, so you won't have to worry about another one cropping up for awhile.**

**As for the Amalthians and Recongregationalists, they are puritanical and radical factions of the Inquisition respectively. The Amalthians believe that the Emperor has a perfect holy plan that must remain untouched and protected. The ****Recongregationalists believe that the Imperium has fallen into decay and corruption, and in order to survive, must undergo radical changes.**

**I hope you guys liked it! What are your thoughts? Please, let me know!**

**Review Replies:**

**reality deviant: Thanks! No plans to stop just yet!**

**DanAbnettFan1997: Does Yang seem like the sort to seek power and influence? But I'm glad you're liking the TLI. :)**

**Zedicus101: Thank you so much!**

**thefluffyone93: As I mentioned in the PM (and as you may have realized by the end of this chapter), I am very aware of the Inquisitorial factions. From the very beginning of this fic, the conflict between them was going to be a part of it. (Although the factions will be adjusted _slightly_ to fit some story needs. And I have spent many hours on both 1d4chan and good ol' /tg itself, so don't worry!**

**undead3: I mentioned she only has the one! :) And I fixed my little error, thanks for pointing it out!**

**giodan: The ork battle is over, but larger threats lurk...**

**RED Roman Pyro: Sorry! I wanted to write it out, but I don't have their characters fleshed out %100 yet, so I couldn't write it from one of their perspectives.**

**Jouaint: :D**

**L4 of the WEST: She's not hallucinating, just seeing herself coated in blood and being horrified. (Recall that since most people on Remnant have auras, their fights are largely brief and bloodless. To the best of my knowledge, ork blood does not contain hallucinogens!**

**edboy4926: Thanks for all the reviews! I don't know about the Blood Angels, but space marines will show up at one point! Not tellin' when! :3**

**Guest: That will be an interesting day indeed...**

**Bear of Cali: I love your WMG-ing! We'll see how everything turns out!**

**DeusImperator92: You're welcome! Hope you continue to enjoy it! :D**

**CrimsonHeresy: Thank you! I can't wait to write more!**

**Nemris: I bet the tag helped! ;) Seriously though, thank you so much for your awesome review! I would absolutely _love_ to see tabletop stats for Yang, but ask that you wait a few more chapters... you'll see why soon enough! As for restocking on shotgun shells, the IG still stocks a few shotguns (if Gaunt's Ghosts is anything to go by), and carries varying gauge-sizes. I figured at least one has to fit Ember Celica.**

**CV12Hornet: Glad you like it! And hooray, another Dust Effect fan! That premise (Yang goes to different universe) was the absolute genesis for what eventually became A World of Bloody Evolution. However, yes, this story (as a result of its setting) is a lot less happy-go-lucky than Dust Effect. The way I like to put it is Mass Effect's story is about winning, while WH40k's stories are about surviving.**

**biolaj1998: I hope this chapter answered your questions! :D**

**Holy God-Emperor and the Thousand Saints of Terra! You guys are incredible! School's starting up soon, so updates will slow down a bit, but I'll keep plugging away at this! I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am!**


	8. Bright Lights, Big City

**A/N: A slight breather chapter for y'all. I know you guys are wondering about what's gonna happen when TLI and Yang clash, but don't worry! That's coming soon! There's some other stuff that needs setting up first! **

**With that said, enjoy Yang's night on the town!**

**(The chapter is a reference to the Gary Clark Jr. song, awesome song, and very fitting for Yang! Go check it out!)**

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><p><strong>Book One: Baptism by Fire<strong>

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><p><strong>-Chapter 8: Bright Lights, Big City-<strong>

_"I'd rather they drink themselves stupid than chew on the muzzle of a lasgun." – Veteran Sergeant Janice Vadiik_

Cleaning up the main ork force took little more than a few weeks, as scattered bands still roamed the countryside. Companies of the 111th took it in shifts to hunt them, and when the task was done, Yang's company finally got shore leave in Elodia's only hive city – Primum Mobilus. It was a bustling trade port where fliers choked the air like the smog that poured out of its multitude of smokestacks.

Despite the sweltering, frantic atmosphere of the place, (or, perhaps, because of it) Yang loved the place. People of all shapes and sizes filled the street, colorful and varied. Rich-robed traders and dockworkers alike rubbed elbows in the streets of Primum Mobilus, streets that rose almost sixteen-hundred stories in the air.

It was then Yang decided she could no longer marvel at the wonders of the Imperium. Instead, she realized that its architects and engineers eternally competed in one of the largest-scale dick-measuring competitions ever waged.

Its size was almost too large to comprehend. When she stood on the lower levels of the city and craned her neck back as far as it would go, she still could not see the city's summit. Not that Yang and her friends would ever visit it. They were confined to the Lower Hive region, where the lower and middling class population lived.

Grim news arrived on their second day of rest – a visiting Inquisitor had been slain, and another had arrived to investigate it. Talk of it spread like wild-fire among the 111th. The event cast a black pallor over the squad, and even Yang felt a worm of worry burrow deep in her gut. She immediately resolved to drown said worm in alcohol.

Under the shadow of the Black Ships, she dragged her friends to a seedy bar in the lower level. Specter of doom be damned – she was going to get drunk.

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><p>"Another round for the invincible Imperial Guard!" Yang cried, hoisting her empty glass. A resounding 'hurrah' from her friends met her cry. She liked this place. The music was unlike any she'd heard before, but it served the same purpose as her favorites from Remnant: to be loud. Lights of all colors danced and flickered about the spacious club, illuminating the seedier types that frequented the place. The weird thing about this place was a small ring in the center of the club that had been cordoned off, and largely ignored by the occupants.<p>

"Are you sure we couldn't go to that place a little higher up?" Ros asked, straining her voice to rise above the music.

"You came out here to have fun didn't you?" She clashed her mug of ale against Rhain's, laughing as the foam sloshed over their hands. Drinking deeply, Rhain gave a large sigh.

"This tastes like shit. I miss mead." Mael nodded, comically stoic in the midst of the revelry. Yang didn't have any complaints though. It was cold, it was beer, and it helped drown out the screams of that little boy with his guts in his hands.

"How much longer do you think we're gonna be here?" Caolin asked, sipping at his ale and cringing at the bitter taste before gulping it down.

"On Elodia? Not much longer." Yang said. "We probably got bigger fish to fry than mopping up a few hundred orks. PDF should be good enough for that." She sipped at her ale, relishing the acrid taste as it scorched its way to her stomach.

"What else could we have to do?" Ros asked. Honestly, she couldn't be sure why she felt there was something headed their way. Just a hunch. Yang shrugged.

"As long as we keep moving, I don't give a damn." Ros considered this, slouching back in her seat. _Something's been eating at her_, Yang thought, _but for the life of me, I can't figure out what. _"For now," she said, gesturing with her glass, "I'm going to relax."

"Couldn'ta said it better myself!" Rhain said. A red color had seeped into his cheecks, no doubt a result of the alcohol.

"Hey, c'mon Ros, let's go dance." Caolin said, nudging her.

"I'd… rather not."

"Aw, c'mon! Let's see those lanky legs of yours in action!"

"I said no, Caolin. Don't make me kick your ass again." He sighed, admitting defeat.

"You're no fun."

"Agreed." Yang said. "Let's see a smile!" Ros sighed, but gasped when Yang dove behind her and stretched her lips into a comically wide grin. Mael spat out his ale, lost in mirth. Rhain chuckled, and Caolin fell off his chair, howling as tears ran down his face.

"G-Golden Throne Yang!" He cried. "Look at her face!" Ros eventually surrendered, sighing deeply as Yang swooped around to beam at her.

"Emperor save me from the lot of you." She said, punching Yang on her shoulder. Caolin stood, wiping tears from his eyes and drunkenly leaning on Ros. He raised his mug, slamming his hand on the heavy wooden table to draw as much attention as possible.

"Attention! Attention everyone! A toast! A toast to the gorgeous Yang Xiao Long, without whom I would not be here today! Forgive her puns, oh Emperor, for she is unparalleled in battle! Hear, hear!"

"Hear, hear!" Her friends chorused, as heartily as they could. Even a few patrons joined in, wrapped up in Caolin's passionate (yet inebriated) speech. Yang was flattered enough to give him a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

They laughed, once again raising their mugs to swallow the swill they called ale.

"Seriously though, Yang, I-I'd be dead right now if it weren't for you! I mean… Holy Terra! You punched an ork so hard, he _flew_!"

"I guess I did, didn't I?" She laughed. Ros frowned.

"Shoulda seen his face though! It was all… BLERH!" He cried, screwing up his face in a rough approximation of an ork's, earning a laugh from the table. "Ha! Stupid fucking xenos!"

A voice boomed over the speakers, temporarily silencing the thunderous music.

"Alright, you drunken sots, time for what you've all been waiting for! One on one, no gloves, no respite, and no weapons! Place your bets and step into the ring for your chance at glory!" The lights focused on the center of the club, lights swirling dancing on the sunken pit of sand.

"I think that's our cue to leave." Ros grumbled, picking her glass up off the table.

"I think it's our cue for you guys to pony up!" Yang said, wearing a wolfish grin. Ros paled.

"Oh no."

"Oh _yes_." Yang stripped her tunic off, leaving her in her white tank top and fatigues.

"Oh _Emperor_ no." Ros whispered. The boys laughed, piling what credits they had on the table before Yang. She scooped it up, hopping onto the table.

"ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP PEOPLE! I GOT A STACK OF CREDITS HERE THAT SAY NONE OF YOU CAN BEAT ME!"

"I'll take that bet!" Someone shouted, pushing his way forward. He was a bigger man, but not hulking. Scars and tattoos raked over lean muscles. He was a hive ganger, with ridiculous pink-dyed hair to boot. "Guard or not, little lady like you gotta be _loco_ figtin' in the pits!" Yang's friends let out a collective groan. Mael slumped forward, forehead clashing against the table. This man was about to die a _very_ painful death.

"Bring it on, pinky!" A few hushed gasps around the patrons. Apparently, the gangers were popular here. Or feared, at least.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have our first match of the night!" A roar of approval from the gathering crowd, and an exasperated sigh from Ros. "From the Tunnel Snakes we have the local champ… Rico Monzaaaaaaaaaanta!" A few raucous cheers from his ganger friends. "And from the Imperial Guard, we have a new challenger, a boastful young woman whose name is unknown… A Radiant Golden Sun!"

"Wait!" Rhain said, holding Yang back. "Let's get a pict before Yang drenches herself in ganger blood!" Caolin and Mael laughed, while Ros sighed once more. They squeezed together, while Yang held out the small pict-stealer.

"Say cheese!" Yang said, holding the camera.

"Say what?" Caolin asked. She shrugged.

"It's an expression. Smile!" She pressed the button, and a flash of light filled the club, one more bright flashing light among many.

"C'mon, you scared?" Pinky cried, calling to her from the pits.

"Well, I gotta go kick his ass. I'll be right back." She winked at her friends.

Vaulting over the ropes, lights swirled and danced around her, the beat pulsing pleasantly in her head. She had no idea what she was doing, no plan of action. And she wouldn't have it any other way. The only future she saw was in the ring, another challenger, another fight. Not the digging sensation in her gut. She polished off her drink with a satisfied sigh, tossing the glass over her shoulder.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she threw a few test punches. _Definitely drunk_, she thought _but enough to put up a damn good fight_. Her opponent climbed in with her, grinning savagely.

"Alright, let's see if the Guard trained you good enough to face a Tunnel Snake!"

"Oh, honey, you have no idea what's headed your way." She cooed, smiling.

"BEGIN!" The announcer shouted. The music made a powerful return, a pounding, brutal song, with shouted lyrics, vicious guitar stabs, and a hammering bass kick that shook her to the core. It was _perfect_. Pinky McFuckstick rushed her, revealing the shine of brass knuckles.

_Well if he's gonna cheat…_

She raised her aura, not moving an inch. His metal-clad fist slammed into her face, barely turning it. It hurt a little, sure, but the surge of power her semblance gave her in return made up for it. She winked at him, and the crowd roared. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates. Like lightening, her fists flew into his chest, hurtling him back. Each pounding strike of knuckles on muscle felt good. It felt _right_.

"Gonna have to try harder than that!" She cried. He ran forward, panting. The lights pulsed in time with the music, shuttering her world into short blasts of sound and vision. This time, he was more careful. A kick rocketed forward. With a rush of yellow hair, she ducked under it. Even without Ember Celica, her strikes were deadly. One blasted him in the chest, throwing him into the air and crashing into the sand.

"Whoooo!" She stumbled over to the edge of the ring. "Do you mind?" She said, pointing at a patron's florescent blue drink. He shook his head in awe, and it was gone in one gulp. _Fruity_. She felt her aura twinge, and she dodged the sneak attack.

Pinky was speechless.

"COME ON, YANG! KICK HIS ASS!" Caolin cried.

Yang obeyed, rushing the ganger and tackling him to the floor. She dodged the brass knuckles that assaulted her, but in doing so, threw her off before she could hammer him into submission. _Getting sloppy, Yang..._

Rolling to her feet, she launched a kick at him that caught him squarely in the chest. Normally, she would have channeled a bit of aura into it (which would have crushed his ribcage and sent fragments of bone shooting into his heart), but this was her night out, not the battlefield. _Funny how the activities overlap._ She mused. Pinky sank to the floor, defeated.

"Too easy! Who's next?!" She settled into a stance, purple eyes searching the ring. Two more gangers hopped in, no longer jovial. Mohawk and Nose-ring. _They look pissed._ The announcer tried to get them to back off, to no avail. Yang held up her hand. "I'll allow it, but only if they cough up double."

Snarling, they threw a bag of coins at her.

Laughing, she rolled to the side. Mohawk's eyes darted around, pupils dilated and vibrating. He was hopped up on some drug, and it showed. Sweat poured down his face as he launched a new assault. The attacks were uncoordinated, but fast and hard-hitting. Nose-ring stayed off to the side, launching abortive attacks whenever an opportunity arose.

Throwing up a block, she managed to deflect the worst of it without her aura. An opening appeared and Yang struck, bringing a fist around to smash Mohawk's nose. The crowd gasped as blood shot out, soaking the sand beneath their feet. She bowed, reveling in the attention and dodging a blow from Nose-ring.

One fist found its way into his face, and he stumbled back. Drawing a large knife, he stomped forward. _Oh, this is just too much fun._

"Tsk, tsk, that's against the rules!" She said, waggling his finger at him. When the crowd saw the frenetic lights reflect off the blade, a few gasped, but were otherwise too engrossed to stop the fight.

The knife rushed past her face in a hiss of pressed metal, narrowly missing her golden hair.

Faster than a lasbolt, her hand grasped his, throwing it away from his body. She twisted around, a fluid river that flowed under the hidden second knife. One sharp kick drove him to his knees, and another rose up to meet his elbow, snapping it like a twig.

The sharp-crack sound of bones breaking sent the crowd into a frenzy. He screamed, clutching at his broken arm while tears streamed down his face.

"Let's give him a hand, huh?" She yelled, hoisting the broken limb. The crowd roared its approval, but Nose-ring just shrieked in pain. "Yeah, yeah, well next time, don't bring a knife to a fist fight." She sniffed. "Bad manners." Her friends were cheering their hearts out, and she gave them a little wave as she bent down to scoop up her winnings. Caolin and Mael wore huge grins, but Ros gestured her over before another challenger could step into the pit.

She had to scream to be heard over the shouts and gut-churning music.

"Yang, we need to get out of here!"

"What, do you not like money?"

"I like not being gutted by a bunch of gangers!" The red-head nodded over at the group of pink-haired gangers, glaring daggers at Yang.

"Well-"

"We can't fight like you! And Emperor knows how many of the fuckers are in here!" She sighed. Ros was right. It was time to go, even though a part of her never wanted to leave… that part of her… that insidious whisper that sat in her mind, that part of her that wallowed in endless thirst, the part of her that let her forget Ruby and that horrible blood-soaked battlefield.

_That _part of her…

Nausea seized Yang, and her stomach tied itself in knots from the realization. _I'm a _coward_. I'm running away from ghosts and bad feelings. What would Ruby say? _A heavy sigh passed her lips.

"Yeah. Let's go." Hopping over the ropes, she grabbed her friends and slipped out of the club, much to the disappointment of its patrons. "That was a good call, Ros. Sorry I got a little unhinged back there."

"No way!" Caolin cried. His arm was slung around Ros' shoulders as she helped him along. "That was _awesome_!"

"Caolin, you're drunk." Rhain said, giggling.

"We all are. Now what do we say to Yang, for keeping our wallets in the black?" Yang asked, grinning.

"Thank you, Yang." They murmured, all smiles. Ros still looked upset.

Despite Yang's blackening mood, it had been a good time. The city was no less active for the late hour, as fliers choked the skies, and bright pulsing lights from various signs and stores flickered on the cement walkways. Their standard issue boots padded across the streets, slightly lighter for tonight's revelry.

_Soon, we'll be back at it_. Yang thought. _Maybe it's better that way. _She looked at her hands, which she'd taped up after the abuse the ork-hide had given them. Ganger-blood and sand crusted them, happy reminders of her favorite habits. Her head hurt, pounding with pain. Rhain noticed her contemplation and nudged her, giving her a big smile. She sighed.

"Rhain… I don't think I should drink anymore."

"Yang-"

"I mean it." He was taken aback by the determination in her voice.

"I'll… do what I can. "

"Thanks, Rhain."

"Of course!" He said, clapping her on the back. "It's the least I can do for my friend." Mael belched, sending Yang, Caolin, and Rhain into fits of laughter.

"Alright, ya drunken idiots, back to the barracks before Jorvis rips our balls off." She said, pushing the stumbling men ahead of her. The boys giggled again, nodding.

Finding their way through the alleyways and seedy street corners had not been easy when they were sober, but now heavily intoxicated, it was nearly impossible. Fortunately, through some miracle, they managed to stumble back into their temporary barracks, giggling and shushing each other.

Yang's gut heaved and roiled, the bad feeling now making itself physically known.

"Urgh. What the _fuck_?" She mumbled, clenching her gut.

"You all right, Yang?"

"No." Her nose was bleeding. Why was her nose bleeding?

_Someone's looking for me. How do I know that?_

Pushing the thought down, she opened the door to their billeting. Looking around the room, dour, despair-ridden faces stared back. Caolin, drunk though he was, noticed it too.

"Uh… whassa matter guys?" Lana -a guardswoman from their sister platoon- burst into tears.

"Did you not hear?"

"What about the Inquisitor? C'mon, you can't be sad about that, they're all assholes." Yang said. She'd heard _plenty_ of stories about them from Vadiik.

"No." Lana wiped at her face. "Sarge just heard from Colonel von Israfel… It's… oh Holy Terra… It's A...A…" She couldn't even summon the strength to say it.

"C'mon, spit it out." Yang grumbled.

"Battle has been met on Cadia… It's A-Abaddon. He's begun his Thirteenth Black Crusade."

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><p><strong>END BOOK ONE<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: And so ends Book One, the "Intro Arc" so to speak. I hope you liked this chapter! It was fun writing this chapter out. I figured I had to do at least one chapter of Yang having a night out! I wonder what Ros' problem is... ;)**

**Another reminder... Book Two is NOT, I repeat, NOT a seperate story on . The 'books' just help neatly divide story arcs. :3**

**Now, an important note about the Thirteenth Crusade. I'm changing some stuff around about how it worked in canon. You'll see exactly how and why, but for now, I'm just tweaking details about it, for reasons that will eventually come to light.**

**Oh, and some other stuff to address. I had quite a few questions as to the extent of Yang's power, and The Lady Inquisitor's psychic might. I wrote up a decent explanation on this story's SpaceBattles thread, which I will now copy wholesale (bracketed off for people who don't care):**

**[Gideon Ravenor, (to me at least, and how he is seen in my version of WH40k canon) was an alpha-level psyker. Alpha-Plus is reserved for immortal or above-human beings such as Greater Daemons of Tzeetch, the Psyker Primarchs, or Imperial Saints. I like the WH40k wiki's explanation of The Emperor being beyond such a scale, so this is my interpretation of that information. Right now, no Alpha-Plus beings exist in A World of Bloody Evolution.**

**As to how this all relates to the story, the way I wrote the ending of Chapter Seven was meant to imply that Yang has a very powerful presence in the warp. It does not _directly_ correlate to what level of a psyker she may or may not be, but rather that the signature she possesses is just incredibly bright. (Which _does_ imply power, to a degree) I'm sorry for the confusion. But regarding other psykers...**

**I'm also standing by my decision to make The Lady Inquisitor a Beta-Level psyker. There are several reasons she's that powerful, all of which will be revealed in due time. The reason that she is rated as Beta-level, is because it correlates to how her powers developed. Let me explain: she was able to slip inside an Inquisitor's mind (which are well-guarded, at least by the puritanical ones), without him being able to detect anything. Her telepathy is so strong, it's what pushes her into the Beta-level+ territory. Most mind-reading involves forcefully prying apart people's minds while blood pours out of their nose and they thrash around on the ground. Not only can she do this without the subject noticing, she was also able to root out memories (non-active or stored thoughts) in _incredible_ detail.**

**This is all due to my interpretation on how psykers work. This is the best way I can put it: some alpha-level psykers were able to rend Titans apart, but (again, in my interpretation) some Alpha-levels manifested their abilities in ways other then just pure psychic power. This is what the TLI implies when she's taunting Ezzelino.]**

**Whoo! Yeah! No good way to stick that in the story. Not yet at least! On to review replies!**

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**OBSERVER01: I don't think Yang is suited to be a Commissar, but chambering Ember Celica to fire bolter rounds sounds awesome! :3**

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><p><strong>Whew! That's a lot of reviews! But you know what? I LOVE IT SO MUCH! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!<strong>

**MORE! I NEED MORE!**

**REVIEWS! NEED 'EM! GOTTA HAVE 'EM! **


	9. The Weight of Numbers

**A/N: So, what's next for Yang and the Woadian 111th? Something tells me this chapter might hold a few clues! ;)**

**So, without further ado, MORE RWBYHAMMER 40K!**

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><p><strong>Book Two: Corruption's End<strong>

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><p><strong>-Chapter 9: The Weight of Numbers-<strong>

_"Hate the witch, we are told as children. So we do. With all our hearts, we curse the mutant scum. Then, we learn we __**are**__ the witch. Tell me Commissar, what do we do then? Tell me! TELL ME, EMPEROR DAMN YOU! __**TELL M**__-" Primaris Psyker Alesh Surkan, before his summary execution by Commissar Ingrid Hauptmann_

Caolin sprinted out of the barracks, heaving noisily. Yang couldn't do much else other than slump down in her seat. Abaddon the Despoiler. She'd heard about the Gothic War from Vadiik. The last time he headed a Black Crusade, billions died… and the fact that he'd returned…

It explained her earlier uneasiness. Now sober as a tack, she kicked at the tile floor. _At least I'll get to kill more Chaos cultists._ _But what can I do? I'm just a single guardsmen!_ _And I have to keep myself shackled during combat…the second I truly unleash my aura, my friends will turn on me like a pack of rabid dogs!_ She howled, smashing a fist into her bedpost, snapping it in two. Why? _Why did it have to be like this? I just want to help people, and there's chains and pitfalls everywhere I go!_

"Yang…" Ros began.

"I'm _fine_." What a lie. "Is there any word about us deploying?"

"Not yet." Lana said, fingers working a wrought iron aquila. "The Colonel also gave us a regiment-wide warning… there's a rogue psyker loose in the city." Rhain sunk low, fingering the beads about his neck.

"The whole bloody galaxy's gone mad." He murmured, his fingers working mechanically. "Nedi. Cef. Madra. Illys." Ros stood ramrod straight, shocked to the core.

Caolin returned, stumbling as we wiped flecks of vomit from his lips.

"I'm goin' ta bed." He said, flopping down on his bunk. A wonderful idea. Yang climbed into her own bunk, not bothering to remove her bloodstained tank top and fatigues. With the room spinning and roiling, she pulled the covers over her head and surrendered to the exhaustion.

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><p>The Lady Inquisitor stared down Longinus, sifting through his mind for heresy and corruption. She found a great deal of fear regarding the Inquisitor standing in front of him, which was all well and good, but alas, nothing substantial. He continued to blather about the honor of aiding and Inquisitor or something, she wasn't really listening.<p>

Further scanning revealed he was the zealous sort, and had murdered his predecessor (one Colonel Crassus) when he suspected him of chaotic taint. The involved memories did indeed point to signs of rot, so she would not investigate the matter any further.

Slicing a hand through the air, she silenced his pious rambling.

"Yes, yes, I thank you for your leal service." The man was perspiring a great deal, beads of sweat running down to his clean-shaven chin. "But this psyker couldn't come at a worse time. If the news about Abaddon's return is accurate…" Her office rang with her words, echoing to fill the vast space.

"It is, I can assure you. The High Lords of Terra have confirmed the reports, and are marshalling the greatest defense force seen since the Horus Heresy." Her kasrkin guard that stood watch at the door flinched.

"Are the 111th included in this force?"

"No official orders have yet been given to us. Our astropaths are working overtime to establish communications with Command."

So there it is. War was a constant in the Imperium of Man, but waged on a scale of this magnitude…

A gauntleted fist slammed into her desk, causing Longinus to jump and quiver.

"Damn! Damn it all!" She rounded on him. "You are aware of my… reputation?" He nodded. "And you know what happens to those I find guilty?" Fearful nodding. "And my tenacity in pursuing those accused of heresy?"

"I do. I-I am sorry if I have displeased you, my Lady." She waved the feeble pleading away. The man before her wasn't the issue. She took a deep breath, letting the stale air of the _Scythe of Morning_ fill her lungs, stilling her frustration.

"Then you know I must go to the front. Any signs of treachery in the defense forces could bring untold doom to the entire Imperium. And I am stuck here, hunting for a psyker." No small psyker, true, one powerful enough to bring forth legions of daemons if they so chose. _I must find them before they make such a choice. A shame the most recent addition to the Recongregationalist Inquisitors is not a psyker. _She thought, recalling Ezzelino's acolyte. _Pushing this matter off on a subordinate with psychic ability would be far more expedient._

"You can leave immediately, my Lady. The 111th is capable of handling this rogue psyker."

"Are you?" She asked, pouring another glass of wine. "How many psykers are currently in your employ?" He coughed, fingers writhing against each other.

"None." He managed, in a small voice. Fear bloomed in his mind, white-hot and strangling. Amusingly, he was picturing his own head bursting apart from her psychic power. Blunts always had imaginative ideas on how the warp worked.

"How many?" She growled.

"None." He said, slightly louder.

"As I thought. So, pray tell, how would you manage to find this individual?" No answer was forthcoming. "Would you investigate the entirety of Primum Mobilus? Knock on every single door in the hive city? 'Hello sir or madam, we were wondering if you happened to be an individual of extreme psychic might. You are? Well, if you could come along with us, that would be _great_.'"

"M-m-my Lady-" Her eyes narrowed, and his stuttering ceased.

"Enough of your simpering. I will remain on Elodia IX until this psyker is found. My conscience will not allow me otherwise."

"Y-you are wise and noble, my Lady."

"I know that, I don't need you telling me so. So now do you understand my need for haste?" Vigorous nodding. "These are dark times, Colonel von Israfel." She poured him a glass of wine. Handing him the dark red drink, she sighed softly. She raised her glass, servos in her power armor whining.

"To the Emperor."

"To the Emperor." He echoed. Their glasses clinked, and she let the alcohol flood down her throat. _By the end of this sordid affair, I would be glad to remain in possession of but a single bottle…_ Wine had been instrumental in keeping her head level and drowning grief under its crimson tide.

"I am trusting you, Longinus. As of right now, you and your woadians are aiding my hunt. You are aware Primum Mobilus serves as a shipping hub, so I require your assistance with a few things. My team is too small to accomplish the necessary tasks."  
>"The 111th are ready to serve." He answered, now flushed with pride.<p>

"All departing ships must pass through our small fleet. I shall parse them with my talents. If I find taint, we will vaporize them. On the ground, the 111th and the PDF are to seize control of all inter-planetary shipyards and docks. Every single person leaving the planet shall be investigated. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"I would prefer to desist trade entirely, but with Abaddon approaching, the need for resources and trade makes that impossible."

"I understand, my Lady."

He didn't. He was currently trying to suppress the thoughts that screamed at him, thoughts that denounced the Lady Inquisitor's highly unorthodox methods. 'She's probably reading your mind right now, you blasted fool! Stop it! Wine! Concentrate on your wine!' He thought, downing his entire glass. His raw panic brought her a small, bright laugh.

"You are dismissed Colonel. I shall expect word from you shortly." Bowing low, he hurried out of her office, past her kasrkin guard. Calling them over, she sat them down and poured them some wine as well.

"My Lady…" One started to protest. Darron, a veteran of twenty years, and by her side for ten of them. His wife and fellow guard Chera put a hand on his wrist.

"Your masks, soldiers." They obeyed, pulling away the white masks she'd forged for each of her twenty kasrkin staff. Tears poured down their faces, grief pulling their pupils wide. This was the first they'd heard of Abaddon's newest Black Crusade. Their homeworld was under assault, and they were light-years away, unable to help. They'd remained silent when von Israfel revealed the news, but even without looking into their minds, she felt their anguish spilling from them in choking waves. "Now, a toast." She hefted her own glass. It was the least she could do for her loyal and effective guards.

"To Cadia! May she stand forever."

"May she stand forever!" They cried. With a longing look at each other, they drank heavily of the Inquisitor's wine, tasting sweetness amidst the bitterest news of their lives.

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><p>Yang spent the next day engulfed in drudgery. The Inquisitor had ordered the 111th to investigate all passengers departing from Primum Mobilius. This, of course, (being the Imperium and all) was a mind-numbingly massive number of people. They were looking for the rogue psyker, apparently, but nothing ever came of it. All day she stood in her suffocating flak armor, lasgun at the ready, interrogating an entire host of citizens and officials, asking the same questions over and over again. They'd been told to look for signs of mutation or psychic power, but the most interesting thing Yang saw was Mael decking some jackass in the face when he tried to smuggle a lasgun past them. Fucker went out like a <em>light<em>.

At least the constant questioning and examining kept her mind from wallowing on Abaddon. After sixteen hours, Gamma Platoon's shift at the docks ended, and they shuffled back to their barracks, throats raw from speaking and bodies sore from standing.

But now, her mind was free to focus upon Abaddon, and the coming war. How could she protect the citizens of the Imeprium from a monster of that magnitude? _No, I can't think about it. I have to push it away, or I'll go insane_. _Maybe I can go play dice with Ros?_ _I would, if she hadn't been absent for most of the day_. Their loyal, inspiring corporal, vanishing halfway through the most miserable day of their careers as guardsmen... _what on Remnant happened to her?_ She turned to her other friends. Caolin was already sleeping, snoring comically with most of his body still off the bed. Rhain and Mael were busy discussing the finer points of knife sharpening, with Rhain's boisterous voice, and sharp, insistent gestures from Mael.

In short, there was nothing to take her mind off her frustration.

She stormed out of the barracks. The building they'd been billeted in was an old warehouse, with a low, broad ceiling and a few empty floors. She looked around to make sure she hadn't been followed. She hadn't. With a blast of her aura, she rocketed skyward, landing on the building's roof with a soft and practiced step.

With a deep breath, she settled into a sitting position, letting the noise of the city wash over her. Lights pulsed and danced around Primum Mobilus, accompanied by the scream of traffic and bustle of humans, flowing about the city. The sounds were distant, but Yang could still hear them, bouncing off concrete and plaster, echoes of life and luster.

Abaddon would rob them of it. Not just Cadia, not just Woadia, not just Elodia. Terra too would fall if he was left unchecked. How many people lived on Terra again? Trillions? She shuddered in the night air.

Remnant's problems seemed laughably small in comparison. Even that bitch Cinder just wanted control, not the total eradication of order and peace. Her fingers laced together, a suitable mockery of the position Ren showed team RWBY in their sophomore year.

"Meditation helps me focus. It sharpens the mind as a whetstone sharpens a blade." He'd said. So she sat, reflecting on life and this strange new universe. Normally, she'd punch things until she felt better, but last night's escapade had shown that to be a futile effort.

The Imperium of Man…it had been a difficult adjustment arriving here, fraught with blood and grief. At least her duties in the guard were varied. Just two weeks ago, she'd fought tooth and nail to fight off a band of orks, and today, she stood and interrogated countless civilians, hunting for a psyker. _How is questioning them going to reveal that?_ Psykers are supposed to be like magicians, wielding invisible power and letting the warp course through them… like… like… Aura.

The realization struck her like lightning. _It was me!_ _We were looking for me the whole time! It's me! __**I'm **__the psyker! Even that fucking traitor marine knew it! Holy shit! _The thought pounded through her, making her heart hammer against her chest and sweat bead on her forehead. _Think… I need to think_!

She unbound her aura, letting the energy flow and bubble within her. It was a warm sensation, and brought her immeasurable relief. Her hair ignited, soft yellow flames caressing the golden locks. She couldn't help but notice her aura felt… different in this galaxy. There was a snapping to it, a sizzling sensation, and she could see pulses of power crackling and pouring off her skin. _It never did that before._ _Is my aura still aura? Or is it psychic energy? Could it be both?_ A deep breath.

_What should I do? Should I come forward with my powers? I remember Vadiik saying she fought with someone called a Primaris Psyker before. Maybe I could pass off my aura as something like that. _But that probably meant leaving the 111th and her friends behind. Also, the sheer hatred and vitriol expended over psykers gave her pause. She didn't know what it took in order to be officially _approved_ as one, but it was probably something horrific. _Brainwashing at the best, lobotomies and torture at the worst._

She dug into her wallet, withdrawing a few photos from within. One was a copy of the pict from last night, her new friends in her new world, in blurry grayscale. The other was of Team RWBY, vibrant and happy in front of Beacon Academy.

"Ruby." She said, the whispered word fading into the night air. "What would you do, sis?"

'I'd do whatever it takes.' She'd respond. Tears came to her violet eyes. _And that's what you did. You did what it took, and it took a blade in the gut and your blood washing over us. It took your death._ But the thought gave her pause. Ruby gave her life to save the entirety of Remnant -_a_ _single_ _world_! And here she sat, squeamish and blanching at the possibility she might suffer torture or loneliness in order to save _millions _of worlds_._

Packing away the photos, she made up her mind. _I'll turn myself in_. If she could become a Primaris, she could fight at her full potential. She'd bear whatever atrocities the Imperium put her through, and come out stronger for it. Then, she would tear Abaddon and his legions apart. Rend them limb from limb, and burn the uncountable bodies.

She grinned. She was nervous, but weighed against the thought that she might save billions of lives it was a negligible concern. _Plus, getting approved as a psyker… it'll be interesting, that's for sure._ She slid off the roof, landing on her feet after falling for several stories. Her aura absorbed the impact, causing dirt to shoot up around her. Her hair extinguished itself, flames fluttering down about her shoulders, but she nourished the warmth her aura brought, basking in its glow for a little while longer.

"Time to say goodbye." She muttered, heading towards the barracks door. Benighted citizens of the Imperium though they were, she'd miss the friends that she made. _If they find out I'm a psyker, I hope they don't think poorly of me_. She sighed. Caolin, with his scarred smile, Rhain, with his fatherly airs, Mael, with his rockets and his joyful, silent laugh. And Ros with… Ros with…

"Ros?!" She cried, seeing the woman in question approaching the barracks. Accompanying her was a large, broad-shouldered man, with a tall peaked cap. They neared her. Ros seemed nervous about something, but the Commissar's strides were long and purposeful.

"Sir." Yang said, standing straight and saluting him. _Killing a warboss or not, you'll be damned if you get any more respect from me. Asshole. _But why was he with Ros?

"Is this her?" He asked the red-head.

"Y-yes. This is her." Dark, beady brown eyes searched her.

"As you were, Trooper." He said to Yang, raising his bolt pistol to her head and squeezing the trigger.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, Book Two is starting off with a bang! Ah? Get it? Anybody? No? Ugh, philistines, the lot of you. Yang would appreciate it. :3**

**So yeah, sorry for the shorter chapter. I couldn't help but end on that cliffhanger. I hope you guys liked this chapter! Do you guys have thoughts? Predictions? Particularly vehement opinions? Drop a review, and let me know!**

**Speaking of which, this story has officially eclipsed Time to Say Goodbye, as my most reviewed/faved/followed story! Wow! Thank you so much for sticking with me this far! You guys are seriously the best. And we're just getting started! ;)**

**Review Replies:**

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><p><strong>Whew! and HOLY GOD EMPEROR AND THE THOUSAND SAINTS OF TERRA! Over 100 reviews! You guys rock! Keep 'em coming! More goodness is coming your way! Until then!<strong>


	10. In Passing, We Achieve Immortality

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to wonderful man, without whom, you guys wouldn't be reading this. Rest in Peace, Monty Oum.**

* * *

><p><strong>Book Two: Corruption's End<strong>

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><p><strong>-Chapter 10: In Passing, We Achieve Immortality-<strong>

_"I met a traveler from an antique land…" – Ancient Text from the Dark Age of Technology, unearthed on Terra in M32.222_

Yang's head snapped back from the bolter shell, her aura saving her life.

The round struck the ground behind her and exploded. She hit the floor. Pain. Pain _everywhere_. Taking reeling, gasping breaths, she stared up at the stars, which swam and danced in front of her. Her semblance was activating slowly, hard-pressed from such sudden force.

Blood. She tasted blood. The Commissar stood over her, glowering. Shock and surprise seized him when he realized she was still breathing.

"How are you still alive?" He gasped.

"You _missed_." Her leg swung around, ripping his feet out from underneath him. With an 'oomph!' and gust of breath, he fell, bolt pistol clattering across the street. She could feel her aura now, pumping rapids of light that coursed through her like a surging river. She dove on top of him, ready to paint the street with his brains.

A boot burst forward before she could, smashing into her stomach. She shrugged it off, still advancing towards the Commissar.

"Witch!" He bellowed, surging towards her. His fist flew towards her face, but she pushed it aside. Years of training with aura-enhanced individuals gave her an incredible edge fighting against those who could not bring its power to bear.

A fist slammed into his armor, her fists denting the officer's cuirass. Sailing backwards, he crashed onto the street, groaning. He spat a tooth out, blood trailing from his lips. She kicked him in the stomach, sending him rolling across the ground.

"I'll teach you to shoot me in the face, _asshole_!" He caught her next kick, pulling her to the floor with a powerful hand. The bolt pistol was within reach, and they struggled for it, blindly battering each other for control. With a roar, Yang smashed her forehead into his nose, feeling it break under the strike.

He rolled in agony, spitting and cursing, blood streaming from his nostrils. Yang reached for the bolt pistol, but the Commissar managed to kick it away, sending the heavy lump of metal towards the stunned and speechless Ros.

Swaying, he stood, wiping away the blood that fell onto his shattered armor.

"I'll have your head, _witch_."

"I'm a brawler, bitch." She growled. "Try and take it." He obliged, swinging his fist around. Yang blocked it with her arms, stopping the fist dead in its tracks. Roaring, she stepped forward, blasting him in the chest with a well-aimed punch. He flopped over, hitting the ground as dead weight. Groaning in pain, he tried to stand, and found that he could not. Yang drove a foot into his ribs. He rolled over, but otherwise did not make a sound. She spat out the blood that was filling her lips. Bolter'd done a number if it managed to do that much before her aura deflected it.

"Well fought." He didn't reply. Ros did.

"Yang." She said, voice tremulous and uneasy. The bolt pistol was in her hands, leveled squarely at Yang. One shot, and she'd be blown to bits. She saw the training vids. Death by bolter shell -pistol or otherwise- was not a pretty way to go. She had her aura for now, but she wasn't sure how many more rounds she could take. Ros could at least squeeze of four before she could wrench the gun away. Four was too many.

"Easy, Ros."

"Why? Why should I be?!" She cried. "You fucking liar! You were a psyker the whole time! You _lied _to us, Yang! You were my _friend_! _Our_ friend." Yang wanted to be angry. Wanted to hit her until she understood this was just as scary for her. All she felt was pity for her friend, brainwashed into zealotry.

"Ros. I'm telling the truth. I don't know for sure if I'm a psyker or not, and I was just going to turn myself in to make sure." It wasn't a total lie. She needed to be sure. Ros hissed, the bolt pistol edging closer.

"Yeah right!"

"It's true. Please Ros. Take it easy." She stepped forward, but Ros jerked, steadying her weapon.

"You stay right there. Witch!"

"I'm sorry, Ros, please, I don't know for sure, and I have to find out. What if I'm not?" Her boot rang against the pavement, one step closer to Ros. "What if I'm not a witch? Do you want my blood on your hands?"

"I-" She started. "I'm willing to take the risk. You think I didn't notice? You think I'm a fucking idiot like Caolin? You think I didn't see your hair glowing? I saw you get shot by that ork, and I saw you take that punch in the fighting ring. Hell, the Commissar just shot you square in the face, and here you are, without a scratch on you! No regular human can walk away from shit like that. And that heavy bolter? You think I'm supposed to believe you can just pick that up no problem?" She took a deep breath. "You're a witch. And I'm going to kill you, right here, right now." Ros sucked in a deep breath, trying to steel herself.

"Koris-"

"Don't you fucking dare!" She howled, tears pricking at her eyes. "Don't you fucking _dare_ bring him into this!"

"I don't think he'd want you to shoot me on just suspicions." _Accurate though they are…_ "He loves you. And… I promised you I'd bring you back to him. I'm still gonna keep that promise. Just please. _Please_. Please don't pull that trigger." Ros was crying, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"They're not just suspicions! I _know_ what I saw!"

"Ros, you have to believe me. I would never lie to you!"

"Don't make me do this, Yang." Ignoring her fear, Yang gave her a radiant smile.

"No one's making you do anything. I wasn't lying when I said I was going to turn myself in. So let's leave asshole over here to stew for a bit," She said, jerking her thumb over at the unconscious Commissar, "and go see the Colonel." She put her hands up. "Ok, Ros?"

"Why." She blubbered. "Why can't I pull the trigger?"

"You're a good person Ros, I know it. _You_ know it." Something clicked within her, her dark brown eyes flashing bright before fading away. The bolt pistol fell, hanging low at her side. Her fingers loosened and it tumbled to the ground, metal clanging against the pavement. Yang stepped forward, and wrapped her in her arms.

"It's ok. Let's go. Right now. We're going to HQ, and I'm going to turn myself in, Ok?" Ros nodded, sniffling. "And hey, if you're right, I'm gonna make sure you get all the credit for capturing me. Sound good?" Ros wiped her eyes.

"Yeah. Please, I… don't make me regret this, Yang. I want to believe I was just seeing things."

"You won't. I promise you, Ros." Separating from the embrace, Yang wiped away her own tears. "Let's go." Throwing an arm around her, Yang led Ros towards the 111th's HQ, where a ship would take them to the dreaded Black Ship that hung over their heads.

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><p>Ros sat quietly in her seat, not saying much as they rocketed skyward. She had been very close to blowing Yang's head off, and it was a stroke of unbelievable luck that she'd managed to talk her down. They'd sent command into a panic when they marched into H.Q. and handed them a psyker suspect. Yang pretended to be far more wounded than she was, attempting to bolster her friend's reputation. She stumbled and spat blood every chance she got, before they bound her in chains and threw them aboard a Valkyrie. Someone had the balls to press a seal of some sort onto her chest, hot wax sitting warmly on her stomach. But for the sake of her life, and the lives of a billion others at stake, she bit down her rage.<p>

"Comfortable?" Yang asked, hanging upside down next to Ros. They hadn't unchained her since departure. Ros didn't answer. _No wonder she was so sullen when I was trying have fun last night. _Yang thought. _Must've been mulling over her theory even before they announced the rogue psyker! Clever girl_. They left atmo, and the sensation of blood rushing to her head faded away. _Whew!_

Through the window behind the dozens of masked, black-clad guardsmen training enormous lasguns on her, she watched the Black Ship draw near. It dwarfed the _Ascendant Dawn_, which hung in orbit beside it. Yang should have felt fear, but her decision to turn herself over had brought her nothing but cheer and relief. _Soon, I'll free this galaxy from the terror of Abaddon. And they'll thank me for it._ _I'll be like a rock star!_

"So, what's the Inquisitor like?" She asked the guards. They didn't answer her, which didn't come as much of a surprise. "I mean, I've heard stories, sure, but in person? They've gotta be pretty scary, right?"

Their captain strode forward, sinking to his knees to come face to face with her.

"Pray to the Almighty Emperor she does not find you guilty. For if she does… recall your weakest moments, your worst mistakes, and your darkest nightmares. She will rip them from your mind and lay them bare before you… and laugh while you weep tears of blood."

Yang swallowed. _Good feeling's gone._

"I've watched her do it, too." He continued. "None of them protest their innocence. They die screaming, guilty to the last." He poked her forehead with a thick, armored finger. "I will pray for you as well, little girl. I hate cleaning up my Lady's messes."

A few chuckles from his fellows.

"Be glad she wants you alive. My Lady likes to be assured of her victories, and does not trust your… _interrogation_ to anyone else."

"C'mon Darron, don't make her shit herself." Another (female?) trooper quipped. At least, Yang thought she was female. Their armor was extremely bulky, and they all wore those white masks, which she found oddly familiar.

"Does that answer your question, Witch?"

"Close enough." She replied. Ros gave her a sympathetic glance, which was a victory in her book. She shifted in her chains, trying to wiggle a little more breathing room into them. Not the most comfortable of trappings. She itched. _And what was that about ripping things from my mind? Do mind readers exist here? I mean, we have aliens, giant super-humans, giant, __**evil**__ super-humans, and space travel via inter-dimensional seas of emotion. Sure, why not. Mind-reading's more plausible than half of that shit anyway._

"Darron, right?" She asked the captain.

"_Captain_ Darron, Witch."

"Captain Darron. Those are some cool lasguns. You soup 'em up?" He appraised her coldly.

"These are Hellguns… powerful gifts from the Adeptus Mechanicus. I wouldn't dare tamper with their holy art." _Ah. Well, so much for conversation._

"Keep the Witch quiet, Captain." A red-robed figure added.

"Yes, Lord Ira. You heard the man." He growled at her. "No more talking." Yang shrugged, as much as she could bound in chains and hanging upside down… in space.

The shuttle docked after twenty minutes of increasingly uncomfortable silence. They turned her around and dragged her out of the bay, ordering Ros to come with. Yang took deep, steady breaths. _This is it. Here we go._

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><p>The Lady Inquisitor paced around the interior of her office. Only one day after she ordered the 111th to aid her search, and they bring her a suspect. <em>No doubt that fool Longinus attempting to placate me.<em> She'd thought. But as soon as Ira confirmed they landed, she sent a psychic probe to the cargo bay, and the surge of psychic power pulsed back, huge, unerring.

_That blunt dunce actually managed to do it._ _I don't know how, but he did it. First his commanding officer, and now a rogue psyker_. She chuckled. _The man has talent for flushing out corruption!_ Perhaps Longinus had some skill as an Inquisitor. A small smile came to her lips. Normally, a being this powerful would be marked for instant death, but the sheer power had come to intrigue her.

Her microbead buzzed.

"My Lady. Do you require assistance with the psyker?" The voice said, humble and smooth. She pondered the thought. Twenty kasrkin, Ira, and herself should be enough to deal with the psyker, however monstrous its power. And it was imperative her Ace in the Hole remained concealed. Only herself, Ira, and Captain Barnes knew of his presence, and the fewer the better. She trusted her kasrkin implicitly, but Longinus would be present as well…

"Remain on standby outside. I will hail you if there is trouble." The Lady Inquisitor did not take risks. At the first sign of trouble, the psyker would _die_.

"Yes, my Lady. Good hunting." The voice snapped off. She checked her inferno pistol. Good to go. She wasn't the type to whisper prayers over it like some ignorant peasant. The Adeptus Mechanicus were skilled with technology, yes, but marred their knowledge with mysticism and airs of occultism. She was an Inquisitor. She'd seen the warp, she practiced magic of sorts, and the Mechanicus dealt with neither. Only ignorance.

Her power sword was a different matter entirely. A simpler construction, it required neither extensive cleaning nor intensive maintenance. It was her steadfast companion, and had claimed the lives of many heretics. Ira hailed her.

"We'll be there shortly. She's an… interesting case, this one." Muffled, distant, she heard a strained 'I heard that!'

Psykers were often interesting people. A touch of the warp can change a person irrevocably, in manners unknowable. Even among the most zealous, pious psykers, one would find eccentrics. Ira would learn this, in time.

A rapping at her office door.

"Colonel von Israfel for you, Ma'am." Chera said.

"Let him in."

The doors swung open to reveal the officer. He was considerably less fearful today, and fitted in his finest uniform. A large smile played across his face.

"My Lady Inquisitor, I come bearing gifts!" He spread his hands wide. The man's enthusiasm amused her.

"So I've heard. Perhaps I was wrong to speak so harshly of your regiment yesterday. I am very pleased with your performance, Colonel." He flushed, bowing deeply.

"They are a hardy breed, my Lady. Stocky and strong. It appears they have the noses of hunting hounds as well!" She laughed, a clear, crisp sound.

"Indeed! I have confirmed it; you did indeed find the correct individual. She is on her way here now, as we speak." He nodded.

"The witch, believe it or not, came of her own accord, after some persuading by her friend."

"Indeed." Now this was interesting. If she came willingly, she could be used. And to have such a powerful asset under her control… The Lady Inquisitor beamed. "I am glad to hear it. Now please, remember this: whatever comes through that door, you _must_ be prepared." He stood ramrod straight, folding his hands behind his back.

"I will not fail you my Lady." _Good. Because I would gladly trade your life for the worst of my kasrkin. And I'd hate to see what happens once _they_ fail._

She turned, facing the window that streamed in artificial light. _Soon, I will deal with this and be off to the front_. Her fist tightened around her power sword. _And then I will come for you, Abaddon. I will find your agents, your spies, every iota of your defiling touch. And I will purge it from existence. _She had already called for her Chamber Militants. The _Scythe of Morning_ would rendezvous with the Order of the Sacred Rose in but a week's time, and then… then, she would stamp out Chaos as a child crushes insects.

_And I will laugh. _She beamed, a true and honest smile.

"We have arrived, my Lady." Ira called.

"Enter." The doors fell open. She turned to face them, and her face was wiped clear of any joy. Holy chains bound the pskyer tight, a purity seal latching itself to a tank top that strained under the weight of a considerable chest. Her purple eyes shot open upon seeing her. There was no mistaking it: Yang Xiao Long had returned from the dead.

The Lady Inquisitor Weiss Schnee screamed bloody murder.

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><p><strong>AN: This is something I've had planned from the very beginning, and something I wasn't planning on doing until much, much later. Thankfully, I realized putting this twist off was fucking stupid, so here it is, in all its shama-lama glory. That decision has made the story (IMO, at least) at least 150% stronger, and I'm pleased with the result. But. But.**

**But.**

**I was so excited. I was counting down the days until I posted this chapter. I know quite a few of you probably saw it coming. I'm sorry if it didn't live up to the hype, but honestly, I don't care. It was such a fun cliffhanger to write, leaving on such an awesome last line (almost like a mic drop).**

**I wanted to cackle with glee as you (those who were blindsided by the twist, that is) completely lost your shit that Weiss Schnee is here too, that Weiss Schnee is an Inquisitor.**

**But I can't. Not anymore. The excitement for this reveal that I have been plotting for months has evaporated. In its place is a well of sadness and loss that will forever taint RWBY and all its affiliated works. Monty Oum has passed. My heart goes out to his family, and to everyone who knew him.**

**Thanks to him, I've had so many wonderful moments over the past two years. I've spent so many hours plucking away at my stories, each and every second a tremendous blast.**

**I just wish we had more time with you, Monty.**

**We all do.**

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><p><strong>I'm sorry this chapter was so short. Also, for the first (and only) time, there will be no review replies. Just know that I love you guys for reviewing. Please, please know that. It means so much to me. I wish I could answer you guys with my usual gusto, but today, I'm just not up for it.<strong>

**If you want/need a question answered _immediately_, PM me or hit me up on Space Battles or Sufficient Velocity. Otherwise, just leave a review, and I'll get to you in the next chapter.**

**Thanks again guys. You rock.**


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